


Seoul Train (Once Departed)

by DJ_TNT



Series: Seoul Train [1]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Developing Friendships, F/F, Falling In Love, First Love, Friendship/Love, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJ_TNT/pseuds/DJ_TNT
Summary: Nine young women on a bustling train with connections they have yet to discover. A mellow story to get the mind pondering and nostalgia flowing. A beautiful tale of love, friendship, and self-discovery waiting to unfold.





	1. Wrongful Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> Foreword:  
> She would go on to say that she wants to be the hand holding hers on the train. Say that she wants to see into her innermost mind, to ride with her until the end, to get off only when the lights turned off, to look into the now deserted train and be witness to its darkest secrets. Her darkest secrets.
> 
> Which journey were they on together on this train? Wasn’t life in of itself enough of a journey? A journey in which they wallowed in memories, traveling through pools of reflection. Treasured memories are only treasured until they become overbearing. It is then that giving them away becomes freedom. A frightening form of treasure that nine young women have to inquire after. But for now, they were only nine strangers on a Seoul train with more memories of each other than they care to admit. Waiting to meet. Waiting to part.
> 
> Author's Note:  
> Hi there! This is DJ_TNT, long-time writer from AFF. I'm posting this story on here and AFF. This is a work in progress so I'll have to edit later. But please feel free to lmk how you like it! If you use Asianfanfics, I usually update on there first under the same username just fyi. Plus I already have plenty of other stories on AFF, so feel free to check them out ^^  
> 

_**Note:**_ The first chapter reads differently from the rest of the story. It serves kind of as an overall brief introduction, but stylistically it's very different and not my fave tbh. The story gets much deeper and better though, I promise. Chapter one was just me getting back on my feet as a returning writer lol.

* * *

 

 

She wore her hair short, just above the shoulders and dyed a bright tint to compliment her striking features. Her hair had once been long and silky, but of these days she would speak no more. Mina did not like to dwell on such matters. She preferred to be like the others on this Seoul train. Coming and going, knowing only briefly of each other. Acquaintances for a fleeting moment, strangers from there on. Only, she dwelled too long and attracted too much attention with her sharp face and sad eyes that gave her wisdom beyond her ripe age. There was little to indicate her true age besides her missing merry laugh that made her dimples more prominent.

 

Jeongyeon standing beside her could attest to this. She had given up her seat for Mina like she had given up a great deal many other things for her. Jeongyeon who Mina would not claim to know in front of others perhaps knew Mina the best out of anyone on this train. To say that Jeongyeon had once known long-haired Mina was enough for now. The self-imposed silence and isolation between passengers on this train reflected Jeongyeon and Mina’s own relationship. Once too, Jeongyeon’s hair had been flowy and luscious, a sign of the sweet summer child she was. But that, like the station they had departed from, was a long way back.

 

Now tall, solemn and mighty in her athletic windbreaker with her bob hidden under her matching baseball cap, Jeongyeon maneuvered painstakingly through the crowd. Shuffling away from where she had once came, away from Mina and towards someone else who would much rather acknowledge her presence. Besides, there was someone else here to look over the bone-thin shadow of a woman that was Mina.

 

With eager passengers entering the increasingly crowded train, eager men pushing their way towards Mina came of no surprise to her. Yet it alarmed her all the same. She searched for Jeongyeon for help. A habit she had told herself to rid in public that without regard to her wants, stayed in her like an unwelcomed former friend. Nonetheless friends were for making, not ditching, and a new one came her way as impromptu as the people happening to be next to her on public transportation. In fact, she was one.

 

Mina had seen her on this route plenty of times before. Although the stations they got on from were different, they always got off at the same one. Up until then, still not a single word had been exchanged between them. The beautiful stranger had an amiable air to her with a mismatching fit toned body, the type Mina tried to stay away from had it been on a guy. On a woman, it still intimidated her as much as Mina’s silence intimated Momo – a woman Mina would come to know by another name.  

 

At this moment, however, Mina would come to know her as a hero. When an indecent older man that Mina had seen eyeing her before began walking in her direction, Momo’s firm arm took his place. With a strong grip on the metal bar directly above Mina, Momo blocked out the buffeting masses. She looked down at her with eyes that were usually aloof on the long tedious train ride and gave her a glimmering smile. An _‘it’s okay, I got you covered’_. Her kindness was met with a simple grin, one that faded before it fully bloomed. But Momo was also a relatively simple person. This smile – if you can consider it one – was enough for her. While she was far from asking Mina the questions that had so long pestered her, eating at her limited social confidence,  Momo would consider this enough of an accomplishment for today. More than enough to make her content.

 

On the other side of the maddening crowd, Jeongyeon turned away from a reminder of her hidden side to squeeze in next to an emblem of the shinning present. Sitting down next to a young woman with a spotless almond face and a beautiful unique smile, she noticed the contrast between them. Nayeon dressed like she had friends in all types of places, which she did. A well put together, clean business professional look to contrast Jeongyeon’s casualty. Despite the strikingly dissimilar visuals, Jeongyeon knew Nayeon was of a much tougher sort than she herself. She had witnessed it too many times to not know her temper.

 

“What? Too busy with Mina to sit next to me?” Nayeon chided her, faking regretting moving her handbag aside for Jeongyeon to sit down.

 

“There were too many people!” Jeongyeon protested.

 

Quick-tempered or not, Nayeon as an older sister to a much younger sibling grew up with caring tendencies as well. Quicker than her flash of resistance, she forgave. “Alright, fine. Move your backpack so that the lady next to you can sit down,” she instructed.

 

Jeongyeon who was usually keen had let down her guard around Nayeon, taking little else into notice besides their own interactions. Hastily apologizing profusely to the woman in crutches next to her, she rearranged her belongings to give her room to sit down. “Thank you. It’s alright,” the petite woman replied to her. Had Jeongyeon or Nayeon taken a few additional seconds to look at the wide lustrous eyes on this woman, they may have recognized her. Alas, they did not. They were already too enraptured by a little game they often played to pass time.

 

“That girl with the sharp nose and the pouty lips, what do you think her story is?” Nayeon asked, pointing at a college-aged woman with doe eyes drifted into a beautiful vision only she can see, and a phone tightly pressed to her soft cheeks. She had love on her lips and tender excitement in her heightened speech. She was bragging to a special someone about a letter of recommendation she had just received. _Sana was born to be a translator_ , it read. She beamed reading that single line over and over, reciting it to the person on the other end of the line.

 

“That’s easy, she’s clearly talking to her boyfriend who she’s totally gushy over,” Jeongyeon supplied. “What about the three girls over there?”

 

With sass, Nayeon asked, “Which ones? There’s like fifty of them in this section alone, pabo Jeongyeon.”

 

Raising her voice slightly, Jeongyeon bent her neck and her intonation to clarify what she meant. “Over there! The two shorter ones that just put their phones down at the same time and the tall foreign looking one between them.”

 

A pleased smile spread across Nayeon’s face. She was sure she would win the most creative and accurate story contest against Jeongyeon this time. “The two girls in high school uniforms are classmates. They’re friends, but not best friends. You can tell just by their body language. The pretty, tall one was looking straight ahead and dosing off while the tiny one with the short hair was laughing away on her phone.”

 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about the one with really clear skin over there? The one that looks like she was class president in high school.”

 

Nayeon nearly hackled. “She was clearly a child star known for her wild dances. But now that she’s no longer a youth novelty, she’s trying to transition into a more stable job in the entertainment company as announcer or newscaster.”

 

A mildly stunned Jeongyeon gave Nayeon a light push. “What type of crazy story is that? That all sounds like complete b.s.”

 

Nayeon flipped her hair with confidence’s arrogance. “I win. I’m right. She’s someone I go to church with.”

 

“Yah!” Jeongyeon exclaimed. “That’s cheating!”

 

“Yah?” Nayeon shot up in arms. “Did you just speak informally to me?”

 

Saved by the bell, or rather the ding indicating the train had reached its next destination, Jeongyeon evaded Nayeon’s wrath. “It’s our stop. Hurry!” She knew this would not be the end of it from Nayeon, but perhaps some snacks from the street food stand nearby would appease her. With food in her mouth, there would be nothing else on her mind. In this manner, she was like someone else Jeongyeon knew.

 

Speaking of this someone, Mina and Momo still had not made conversational progress. No conversation was made, actually. Little gestures were the extent of their verbal communication. That was until an elderly lady came in after Jeongyeon and Nayeon left. Mina swung out of her seat without so much as grazing any of the human obstacles in her way, offering up her seat for the granny.

 

Momo shook herself out of her enchanted daze, speaking before she could hold back her tongue. “Are you a dancer?” she sought to know in form only. The answer was already obvious to her. Mina’s handbag had the logo of Momo’s new dance studio on it. She had spent many days looking at it before, unable to find courage to use this information to start a conversation.

 

Mina replied in a soft melodic voice much like how Momo thought she may sound, perhaps only a tad deeper. Marred by trying days of adulthood Momo hoped to eventually hear about. “Was.” Her voice was lost in the commotion of the changing stops, the same way her resolution to dance had been lost. “I was a dancer.”

 

Along with the answer that was lost to the hustle and bustle of passengers leaving and arriving, Dahyun, the unblemished former class president scanned the departing crowd for a familiar face. With a photogenic smile, she reached for the unlikely young woman’s warm hands. “Took you long enough. I was about to leave without you,” she teased.

 

Back inside the train, a now sleeping slender giant of a high school student was gently awoken by the woman in crutches. “High school student, wake up. Your friend already left without you. You’ll be late,” her MC-like loud voice echoed in Tzuyu’s ears.

 

“Just a few more minutes, mom,” Tzuyu mumbled in Chinese.

 

“Pardon?” the lady in crutches spoke a bit louder. “Wake up or we’ll both be late!”

 

Half-asleep still, Tzuyu stirred with semi-consciousness, slow to piece the audio input into cohesive meaning. The realization that her mother did not speak Korean hit her hard. With a thud against her head from bumping against the roof, Tzuyu made a dash for the door. In her haste, she failed to see the crutch that had stalled the timed door for her. The older woman, Jihyo, smiled after her silliness then hobbled out after her.

 

 

* * *

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	2. Words Said and Unsaid

Words raced out from Sana’s lips faster than the bullet train she had just gotten off of not so long ago. Korean words that had once been foreign to her like the Korean college student across from her now seemed too familiar and comfortable. The words poured and poured torrentially until they ironically caused a drought on her lips, drying them out. Stopping her lesson mid-sentence, the translator-in-training interjected, “I should’ve put more lip balm on.”

 

“Do you want some of mine?” the ever-silent studious pupil instantly piped up. Dahyun, with her absolute attention on her hired tutor never missed a beat like the timely trains. Not only was she timely, she was well put together with her clothing and hair always properly in line. In class as in these after school private lessons in Japanese, she was rigid yet alert. Had she been an idol, she’d never fail to find the camera lens. Her never failing to find the lenses of her teachers’ eyes was sufficient evidence.

 

“Hm,” Sana contemplated with pouted lips. Before she could talk, a lip balm stick was handed to her and she laughed. It was not Dahyun’s model student behavior that had drawn her to the younger girl, causing her to go from being her teacher’s assistant to her private tutor. Rather, it was this exact perkiness that kept her on her feet.

 

Dahyun was a vehicle of many compartments. There was the solid and steady exterior, but a surprisingly interestingly furnished interior. Just like Dahyun’s bedroom itself, it hid a character masked by tradition and custom. A character who did not fit this mold. The calligraphy scrolls on the wall indicating that she descended from a respected scholarly clan of Kims meant nothing to Sana. It was the curiosity in the wide eyes of Dahyun and the spunky stretches she did out of the corner of Sana’s eyes when she thought she wasn’t looking that kept her attention.

 

Sana thought about what type of news anchor Dahyun would be. One she would want to watch on television, that was for sure. Yet like the calling that had sent Sana away from her homeland to seek what she wanted so desperately to find in a land that wasn’t her own, Dahyun did not belong in the Korean journalism world. Not with its stiffness and dull sense of duty to report verbatim. No, she had the urge to leave just as Sana has. NHK, Japan’s primer news source, was her goal just as learning the art of becoming a Korean-Japanese translator had been Sana’s. And this was where their roads into the future both crossed and diverged.

 

Construction of paths was a calculated business as was figuring out exactly what would be useful Japanese to teach Dahyun. When they became completely comfortable in each other’s language would be when they part. Sana to go on with her official position as a full-time translator for a local hospital – the job she had recently landed and told Dahyun about. (Dahyun had to be the first to know of course. She was the one who had recommended the job to Sana.) As for Dahyun, she would depart for Japan with the words of Japanese wisdom from Sana’s lips and plenty of misses.

 

The first of the misses were the strange lessons Sana gave her twice a week. It was always Japanese poetry. Beautiful and classical, and completely irrelevant to what Dahyun needed. Sana however, did not see it this way. Pretty words for pretty people, she had always believed. “Do you understand this, Dahyun?” she always posed before saying a cryptic line in Japanese.

 

Dahyun humbly smiled. “I can try my best,” she supplied as a set answer. She always knew the answer. She always studied. Yet, the less she knew, the longer Sana could teacher her.

 

Wasting no time, Sana scribbled rapidly on a small chalk board. She gave a laugh, then flipped it over for Dahyun to see. “The moon is so beautiful tonight,” she read for her knowing full well Dahyun would understand.

 

Playing along, Dahyun smirked all-knowingly. _‘Unnie, are you confessing your love to me?’_ she wanted to ask. Instead, she made Sana speak for herself. “Unnie, what does that mean?”

 

The piece of chalk in Sana’s hand was used to teasingly lift up Dahyun’s chin. “Dahyun is a liar,” the tutor chided as if disciplining a child too cute to be disciplined. _And I’ve always had a soft spot for smooth liars._

 

***

 

 _Liar_ , Tzuyu thought. She sighed into the passing wind. The words exchanged between her and her classmate Chaeyoung had been forgotten like a forgotten passenger on the train. Tzuyu would know. This was not the first time Chaeyoung had ditched their extra night school classes, and Tzuyu in the process. She wondered where her shorter counterpart was. She always left a seat for her just in case, but tonight with the cold wind it felt biting and empty. She felt bitter loneliness, not knowing something would soon come to fill the void.

 

As boisterous trains could attest, physical objects were not the only thing that could occupy space. A thudding door slammed open and an accompanying voice, crisp yet bellowing like the storm brewing outside, caught her attention. “Sorry I’m late class!” The new young vocal trainer’s voice echoed throughout the classroom. The resounding noises turned the mid-size class into a tunnel. With the sounds being some sort of signal, they did not fail to reach Tzuyu.

 

Tzuyu lifted her head to follow the sound. _That’s odd_ , she thought to herself. The instructor didn’t seem much older than her. Perhaps more curiously, the face was one that blew a horn in Tzuyu’s mind. It was stronger than déjà vu. It was a lingering memory like a face she’s seen in a dream, but could no longer recall with completely certainty.

 

Dream or not, Jihyo’s voice rang loud and clear with her wide Thomas the Train eyes scanning the room for any potential dissonance. “Anyways, let’s begin.”

 

As class president, Tzuyu rushed to stand up to greet the teacher so her classmate could do as follow. “No need for that,” Jihyo waved her off. “We’re running on a tight schedule as is.”

 

Tzuyu flushed. Prim and proper and emotionless she may seem, she was still a sensitive girl underneath. While she didn’t expect her new teacher to flatter her like certain other teachers and students, she also didn’t expect her directness. Being a star pupil from a well-known entertainment high school, her teachers had for the most part praised her, hoping she would forget them not in college and later in life. Despite this, there were always those few who were truly honest with her. And Tzuyu never forgot any of them.

 

Then, as if it was her own mother applying Neosporin to a wound after it was unintentionally incurred, Jihyo softened. “I appreciate you keeping with protocol though,” she indirectly thanked her.

 

Tzuyu returned the consideration with a soft grin, one that disappeared when she was called on only seconds later to warm up her vocals and sing a few cords for an on-the-spot assessment. She grumbled and jerked at herself inside. She hadn’t been practicing, with her thoughts on Chaeyoung and Chaeyoung alone. Lucky for her, the teacher’s limp gave her a bit of extra time before she could make it over to her.

 

Perhaps fortunate for both teacher and student, both were forgiving and generous. With the class over in an instant, grievances departed from them both. Tzuyu’s less than satisfactory singing and Jihyo’s untimeliness as well as strictness as a teacher were displaced by more immediate worries. Staying behind to make sure the class was in prime shape, class president Tzuyu noticed the teacher was still struggling to walk out long after she had finished gathering her teaching materials.

 

“Teacher, do you need help?” kindhearted Tzuyu offered although she was still intimidated by Jihyo’s demeaner. Something in Jihyo stroke a cord in her again. She speculated momentarily, only to shake the thought off seconds later.

 

The teacher shook her head. “It’s okay. You should get home or your family will be worried.”

 

Unconvinced, Tzuyu took another look at the on-coming rain and gave an unlikely proposal. “I could give you a piggyback ride.”

 

“Pardon?” Jihyo asked with shock. Never had she seen such a bold student, at least not upon first meeting.

 

“I’m tall and strong,” Tzuyu said plainly, bluntly even. “Please get on so we can both be home in time.” She bent down to half of Jihyo’s height, meaning her own knees were on the ground.

 

Jihyo stood stunned, laughing candidly despite herself. “Are you sure you can carry me?”

 

***

 

“Ya! Yoo Jeongyeon, carry me properly! If you drop me, you’re dead,” Nayeon hollered from atop Jeongyeon’s back. Almost same-age friends from childhood or not, Nayeon would not go easy on her. After all, Jeongyeon had offered. It was Nayeon’s job to see that she would carry through.

 

Actually, Nayeon’s job was an elementary school teacher. Er, or perspective job rather. With an interview earlier in the day and no car she could safely drive (‘safely’ being the keyword here), Jeongyeon had offered to join her to the interview and back. And now this was their trip back. Though a year older than Jeongyeon, Nayeon never turned down an offer from Jeongyeon, preferring to be babied even more so than the children that she wanted to go on to teach.

 

To Nayeon’s excessive complains, Jeongyeon let out a small cry. “Ya, Nayeon. You’re interviewing to be an elementary school teacher not an idol. Why are you wearing your inner ear earrings? They keep scraping against me.”

 

Quick to apologize, Nayeon defended herself. “Sorry, I just got them done! I had to leave them in. And they’re pretty discreet, aren’t they? You wouldn’t even have noticed if I wasn’t on your back.”

 

Under such a confession, Jeongyeon could only sigh with a tad of worry. Nayeon had plenty of ear piercings already, and Jeongyeon was one of the few people who knew the reason for their existence. Stress. Nayeon, like her idol Taeyeon, got a new piercing each time a worry pierced her heart. Like a desperate person on the edge of the rails, she behaved rather irrationally like this. It pained Jeongyeon, but she could only force a smile for her. “Yeah, they’re pretty,” she half-heartedly admitted. She didn’t talk only of deceit. Nayeon was too naturally beautiful for even the ugliest and most painful earrings to weigh her down.

 

If only her heels wouldn’t either, Jeongyeon sighed under her breath again. Light as Nayeon was, carrying her on her back for an extended amount of time so she wouldn’t have to wear her uncomfortable heels weighed on Jeongyeon instead. Shifting Nayeon’s weight, Jeongyeon couldn’t help but complain, “You know, it was an interview not a date. You didn’t have to wear such high heels just to take them off and make me carry you afterwards.”

 

This time, Nayeon protested in earnest. “You offered to carry me!” she blurted out, whacking Jeongyeon at the same time. “And who said this isn’t a date?” Nayeon said with more grease in her wheels. “You’re my boyfriend, Jeongyeon!” Nayeon declared, diving herself into Jeongyeon’s neck.

 

Jeongyeon evaded Nayeon’s face which would’ve otherwise collided with her own, biting her lips to negate the feeling on her neck. “Just lie still or I’ll drop you,” she said to sound tough, not actually meaning those words. She felt Nayeon nodding in response.

 

“Oh! Just take me away from this dreary place,” Nayeon acted out overdramatically with hand motions and all. “Boyfriend,” she whispered playfully into Jeongyeon’s ear just to further irk her. Her extremities continued to flail against Jeongyeon while she chuckled uncontrollably, gasping for air. The special ability to pester the hell out of an otherwise stoic part-time model should’ve been listed as a skill on her resume.

 

With the mask of darkness shielding her tomato of a face from sight, Jeongyeon burst out, “Ya! Stop or the only dreary thing will be you walking alone by yourself to the train station!”

 

Nayeon was silent after that.

 

***

 

Dreary. That was the word that repeated itself in Mina’s head during the downpour. It was not absolutely desolate, only mellow and somehow nostalgic. Seeing the rain from behind the front desk of the dance studio, Mina pictured an image in each droplet splashing against the glass doors. She pictured herself as the main character from Spirited Away, riding on the train to an unknown place. A lonely human, but not alone. She imagined Jeongyeon and Nayeon quarreling over nothing in particular and smiled. She then envisioned another one of the familiar faces on the train as her sidekick who always sat far from her but had her in her heart as a little tiny animal floating in the air. This brought more joy to her lonesome self.

 

Then finally, she thought of _her_. The young woman who she had accidentally been too curt to. The one that had wanted to know more about her only to be rebuffed. A friendly spirit that she had perhaps spited and now knew not how to make amends to. Her No-Face. Had she been wrong to rush out without another word to her? But what more was there to say? Mina had never been a person of many words. That was part of the reason she took on living with Jeongyeon in the first place. Jeongyeon did the talking for her sometimes. Jeongyeon always took the lead, making things easier for Mina. Not like that one young woman. Mina would have to be courageous for once if she were to befriend the equally awkward No-Face beauty.

 

It was on this curious thought that a knock then two came at her studio door. _Knock, knock._ Mina shivered awake, regaining attentiveness when the bob in the reflection became one she did not recognize as her own. “Chaeyoung!” she exclaimed. Running to the door with the calm of ice on her face but the jitteriness of a penguin in her body movements, Mina let Chaeyoung in. Shelter from the storm, but a mouthful to the ears. “Shouldn’t you be at your cram classes? You’re a senior. And besides, it’s after closing at the studio. I- I was just about to leave.”

 

Chaeyoung gave her a teeth-filled smile. “It’s the first day for a new teacher. She probably just did introductory stuff. And you’ll have to lie better unnie. You’re not even packed yet. Were you starring off into space because of the rain again? You were acting out your own melodrama again, weren’t you?”

 

Mina had no comeback to this. She pouted in slightest wanting to hide herself from the embarrassment. She let out a quiet sound of displeasure instead, then gave in. “Guessing you want to use the practice room again?”

 

The high schooler nodded. Feeling decent with her vocals, Chaeyoung felt the stress to improve her dance before the university auditions. She had on her face a worried seriousness that would mark her beyond her age. It was new to Mina, new like the hair on Chaeyoung’s head.

 

Opening a room for Chaeyoung, Mina thoughtfully commented, “I like your new hair Chaeyoung, but I barely recognized you. You almost scared me!” She gave out a heartful gummy laugh.

 

Chaeyoung laughed in return, ruffling the little that was left of her originally flowy hair. “Thanks. I was inspired by someone to cut it.”

 

Mina smiled again at the younger girl who tried so hard to act old beyond her tender years. She resisted the urge to pat her head and mess up her hair. Instead, she stroked it gently. “It looks nice. It looks like–”

 

“Yours.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore the importance of words in this chapter so there's a bit of that. I tried to be witty lol. Let me know what you think so far :) Will edit later!
> 
> Also, if you have an Asianfanfics account or prefer to read on that site, I usually update on there first. Plus I already have plenty of other stories under the same username so feel free to check it out.
> 
> You can also follow me on tumblr @abitofeverythingstrange.tumblr.com for even more Twice content if you'd like! ^^


	3. Questionable Identities Going Nowhere

 

  
Chaeyoung caught the last train that day with a weariness that outweighed the immense weight of the trains themselves. Distant, she daydreamed of the last of the trains going back and forth endlessly. Then again, what was backwards and what was forwards for a train that could move both directions? Wondering over the direction of the train was pointless. Like the visions one sees in the blurry lights when the train whooshes by and try to make sense of, it was all up to interpretation, and therefore closest to the true self of the individual. And the truth Chaeyoung had come to believe was as distorted as the fuzzy lights.

 

She regretted it. She regretted cutting her hair for someone who didn’t appreciate it. Someone who could never see it as art. “You look like my mom,” Mina had said to change the topic and laugh off her confession. They were simple words, hysterical even. But not for Chaeyoung. For Chaeyoung, they were loaded and the trigger had been pulled. The irreconcilable pain of a lost first love had Chaeyoung screaming in pain into her pillow in the tiny dorm room she shared.

 

Adjacent to her bed was Tzuyu’s, her non-Seoul resident roommate. This much they had in common, but the world they had apart. Tzuyu stirred. She had waited for Chaeyoung to come home with an anxious heart. She had promised Chaeyoung’s family in the countryside to look after her just as Chaeyoung had promised Tzuyu’s family in Taiwan to care for her, but it was only a half-fulfilled promise. On many days like today, Tzuyu worked a double shift. Keeping up with her school work to maintain her status as the top student, she also spent an equal amount of time worrying for Chaeyoung. As if Chaeyoung was her most beloved puppy gone astray, Tzuyu could only wait for her at home. Not knowing where she went, and afraid to ask. Always pretending to be asleep although she had grown sensitive enough to wake up to the sound of Chaeyoung tiptoeing in pass their curfew.

 

Tonight in particular, Tzuyu wanted to console Chaeyoung. She wanted to hold her gingerly like one of her many stuffed dog plush toys. She wanted to play with her short hair that she had grown to love and tell her everything would be okay. Tzuyu stopped herself short. _What_ would be okay? She knew practically nothing about Chaeyoung. Not what she was up to all night, not why she was crying. They were nothing but roommates and besties in name only. Shallow titles for a shallower and seemingly stagnant relationship. At the end of the day, the question that resounded through Tzuyu’s mind the most was a simple yet devastating one: _What were they?_

 

***

 

“What are we?” Nayeon asked in a slurred stupor, still hitching a ride on Jeongyeon’s back.

 

“I’m Jeongyeon and you’re Nayeon. You’re exhausted and sleepy, not drunk and forgetful,” Jeongyeon answered her. She gave a scoffing laugh. “Sometimes I don’t think you know the difference.”

 

Needed to steady herself and assert dominance, Nayeon strengthened her grip on Jeongyeon’s neck. She playfully fake-strangled her until Jeongyeon gagged and apologize. At least Nayeon could still wield this much authority. She was the conductor here. The eldest unnie in command. But in this thought, her emotions soured. The point that she had wanted to make became more poignantly sharp. “I mean what are we doing with our lives, Jeongyeon?”

 

Jeongyeon laughed her off, as she was accustomed to doing. “That’s quite a loaded question.”

 

Nayeon strained her voice for emphasis. “I’m serious!” The despair set in. She was half way to fifty, she acknowledged in silence, and had nothing to show for it. No steady job, no significant other, nothing to call her own. In a rare public moment of vulnerability, she muttered, “I don’t want to feel like I need another piercing.”

 

Growing emotional, Jeongyeon kept mum. Nayeon was right, but Jeongyeon knew better than to provoke her with any attempt of condolence. Any words could trigger a storm of tears from Nayeon in this emotional state. Sure they would laugh about it much later on, but Nayeon would never forgive her for causing her to cry in public. They had been through all of this before countless times. Besides, with the occasional droplets of rain on the tracks to becoming pellets and the last train already departed, the last thing Jeongyeon needed was a weeping willow on her back, further soaking her clothes. So instead of the affectionate words she wanted to say, Jeongyeon lifted Nayeon up higher saying, “Come on, let’s take you to my home. I’m sure Mina won’t mind a visitor.”

 

“‘A visitor’? I’m practically your unofficial third roomie!” Nayeon fought back, more nagging than harsh. It was the way she expressed her gratitude for a friend like Jeongyeon. They may be separated by a year in age, but the ten they had spent as the best of friends and soulmates made up for it more than tenfold. By her count, she spent more time with Jeongyeon than any other living being including her own roommate, Momo. Her relationship with Jeongyeon was that of an old couple. Two equally naggy spouses, quarreling incessantly but also caring tenderly. Whenever the trains have stopped, Jeongyeon would be her train, providing her solace in the form of company and a roof over her head.

 

Suddenly overwhelmed with warmth of a loving relationship, Nayeon kissed Jeongyeon’s cheeks. She swiftly hid her head in the crook of Jeongyeon’s neck right afterwards to avoid the oncoming scolding. To her surprise, no reprimanding came. Jeongyeon was going soft on her.

 

“Your other dongsaeng must be jealous,” Jeongyeon said causally. There she goes again, Nayeon thought. Always equating herself to one of Nayeon’s younger siblings. Just a sibling. Perhaps they were just that. Time had been on their side just as it was against them. Time had brought them familiarity and comfort. But perhaps, just perhaps, that was also their downfall. Nayeon was a firm believer that the difference between soulmates and lovers was timing. Jeongyeon was her soulmate and best friend, but time was not.

 

***

 

“Do you ever think that if you weren’t my best friend, that if our timing was better, that we could be–” Sana began to tease before she was abruptly cut off. She had literally been dropped. Never had someone thrown her off their lap so rapidly.

 

“Okay, Minatozaki Sana. That’s enough. Time for bed,” a fed up Jihyo set down the rules, and moved away from Sana on the couch. She was accustomed to Sana being touchy with her, flirting with her with more than just words. Not tonight though. Tonight she would draw the definite line to set their tracks far apart from each other. She had more serious thoughts on her mind to entertain Sana’s playfulness and curiosity that often tipped over the pitcher, venturing into the unknown.

 

Sana was quick to take up arms the way she knew best. She whined and complained, she shook one of Jihyo’s arms, pouting all the while. “Why? Why?” she inquired in a drawn-out tone, sounding as cute as she could muster. Seeing that her aegyo attacks were in vain, she relented and asked somberly, “What’s on your mind roomie?”

 

Jihyo exhaled heavily. “Just…you know.”

 

“A student?” quick-witted Sana caught on. She had seen the tall girl in a Hanlim Multi-art Highschool uniform drop Jihyo off at their front door from behind the blinds. The student had the look of a foreign beauty, complete with angular features, wide eyes, and a shapely body. All of which Sana did not fail to notice. But first and foremost, she seemed kind. For Sana, this was the greatest trait of them all. “She seems nice,” Sana found herself saying.

 

Smiling, Jihyo agreed. “Oh. You’re right. She does seem really nice.” While the smile spread, Jihyo did her best to shake it off. “But that’s not it!” she denied. Quick to change the topic, she investigated Sana instead. “What about you though? You usually aren’t this excessively, excessively into skinship unless there’s something on your mind too.”

 

“Same reason as you,” Sana admitted, not meeting her eyes.

 

“Dahyun seems nice, too,” Jihyo answered for her. She was met with a couch pillow to her face.

 

“That’s not it!” Sana rioted like Jihyo had. Only, her sudden embarrassment-induced furry was much stronger than Jihyo’s. “She’s just a Ponyo-like best friend.”

 

“Timing,” Jihyo whispered to her just to stir up her feelings. She burst into a fit of hard laughter there afterwards.

 

Knowing when she was being teased, Sana pursed her lips and stormed off. “I’m not helping you to the bedroom!” she announced pettily.

 

***

 

Plopping a now asleep Nayeon down onto Mina’s bed, Jeongyeon left to change in the nearby restroom. Instinctively, Nayeon reached for the closest person. A light sleeper, Mina woke up to the other familiar warmth that wasn’t Jeongyeon. It felt nice when Nayeon rolled over to her. This was a feeling she admittedly liked. One that both Jeongyeon and Nayeon still found somewhat odd.

 

She was lonely. Jeongyeon was her only friend her in Korea and Nayeon was Jeongyeon’s best friend. A best friend of a best friend could make for a good friend as well. Only, when Jeongyeon and Nayeon were together, that was it. It was all about their dynamic duo relationship. Mina sometimes felt like a guest in her own home, her home that she partially rented (albeit under the table) to Jeongyeon who slept on the foldout couch.

 

Ever since Mina arrived in Korea four years back in search of things she had now lost almost for certain, she had made only a handful of true friends. Now it seems maybe she had lost one. Maybe she had herself to blame for blurring the lines, for causing Chaeyoung to believe there was something where there wasn’t. She rebuked herself even now, late into the night. She would have to be more careful. She would have to remind herself that not everyone was as carefree and affectionate in their friendship without expecting more like Jeongyeon and Nayeon were. Well, could that be said with certainty?

 

Mina cleared her mind of such questions. She had enough. She was tired and simply wanted rest. Even if it was selfish of her, she wouldn’t cry over a possibly lost friendship. At least not tonight. Years ago, on a night like tonight, she had lost much more. She was too numb now to cry over all of that, too numb after she had already exhausted the years’ worth of tears in the shower on random gloomy night after gloomy night. Sometimes it had gotten so bad that Jeongyeon would come into the shower with her just to hold her. Just to soothe her.

 

Mina had taken this comfort at face value as well. Never wanting to openly question, only accepting. She’s too weak and needy, she admitted to herself. Then in this moment of weakness, she remembered those admiring eyes. Clear and reflective were the eyes of the young woman from the train. This was someone who still saw her as a strong woman, a stuck-up one even. Her eyes reflected everything Mina was, what she used to be. It was like looking into the orbs that many believe to contain mystical qualities. In the light eyes of the woman that was overtaken with imagery of Mina, Mina found a hopeful new friend-to-be. She vowed she would not mess this up.

 

Sad and isolated, she wanted nothing more than to be genuine. To have a genuine friend she could call hers. One that she could tell all her painful secrets to, the same way Nayeon and Jeongyeon shared theirs. It wasn’t wrong for her to want a soulmate was it? She wished for a shared complacency. The lulling stillness and peace that only a thoughtful soulmate who would be exclusively hers could provide.  

 

Instead of these demands, Jeongyeon gave her and Nayeon a thick comforter. “It’s going to get cold because of the rain. Keep warm,” her roommate instructed her warmly like her own mother used to.

 

“Get in bed with us,” Mina offered with open arms.

 

“I have the couch,” Jeongyeon replied. “And it’ll be crowded on the bed.”

 

Mina made a face. Remembering they were in the dark, she reasoned aloud, “It wouldn’t be the first time we all cuddled. And like you said, it’s cold.” Hearing no reply, she added a final adorable bargaining chip, “It’s too cold even for penguin Mina!”

 

Jeongyeon snickered, giving in and got in. “Move aside, big spoon Jeongyeon coming through.” A pair of thin warm arms met her waist, enveloping her. Tranquil as they were all huddled up together, Jeongyeon intuitively felt a well-disguised pang of off-putting sadness from Mina. “Is everything okay?” she gently asked.

 

“Yeah, just really tired. Jeongyeon, can you hold me tight?”

 

“I would,” Jeongyeon began. “But then we’d be squishing Nayeon between us and we’d never hear the end of it,” she joked.

 

Mina found her smile again. “Oh. You’re right.” How could she forget about Nayeon between them?

 

***

 

Jihyo was utterly tired standing alone in the train. Not just need-sleep tired, but need-someone-to-hold-her-tight tired. Away from the loving arms of her mother though, Jihyo had only Sana. Jihyo shivered at the thought of Sana all over her. Her live-in friend was a bit too much to handle sometimes. Strike that. Make it most of the time. But that’s what was nice about the two of them. They were loud, they were proud, and they had all the fun in the world together. A good balance, better than all those other angsty roommates if you ask her.

 

Speaking of angsty, the scorching pain in her leg that she recently got surgery on caught up to her like a predator after a prey. Desperate for a seat, she waited impatiently for people to file out of the train at the next time and promptly flew into the closest seat. Her relief was momentary. Curious eyes much like Sana’s met her own.

 

“Park Jisoo? Child actress who was under JYPE, Park Jisoo? Am I right?” a once familiar voice from a woman with bunny teeth and oversized sports clothing beseeched. “It’s me, Im Nayeon unnie.”

 

Im Nayeon. Im Nayeon. It was a name she had tried to forget like the identity she had tried to shed. Yet it refused to leave her. She was no coldblooded reptile. She could not so easily shed this skin and leave it behind. She couldn’t even bring herself to correct Nayeon. It’s Park Jihyo now, she wanted to say. An average teacher, nothing more. Little did she know that what she considered her lack of success would’ve been a world of success in Nayeon’s book.

 

“Ah, hello,” Jihyo bowed and greeted politely. “It’s been a long time.” They had both been trainees in the same company at one miserable point in their life after all. Jihyo could not pretend that she didn’t remember those harrowing years.  

 

“You’ve grown up so well!” Nayeon exclaimed. With a cheeky smile, she held onto Jihyo’s hand like an unnie holding on to her beloved maknae. “You’ve barely changed. Just gotten a bit taller. Wait until I tell Jeongyeon!” Getting ahead of herself again, Nayeon decided to ask for a favor. “Can we take a picture together?”

 

Jihyo wanted to refuse. She wasn’t a celebrity anymore. She had grown a distain for the public eye. However, her riddled past was also filled with sisterhood. Elementary school Jisoo who had been an only child had found two older sisters in Nayeon and Jeongyeon. For years, they had been her only siblings until she herself became an unnie. So, despite her dislike for cameras she agreed. “Sure unnie. For old times’ sake.”

 

Nayeon eagerly dug about her possessions. “Where’s my camera?”

 

***

 

Rummaging through Nayeon and her roommate’s countless possessions in their overstuffed room, Jeongyeon sighed in annoyance. She couldn’t find that damn minuscule camera the size of a fly’s eye for the life of her. She wondered what Nayeon even needed it for. It wasn’t like any school interviewing her would care to look at her amateur photography. Misgivings aside, here Jeongyeon was, doing favors for Nayeon yet again.

 

Having just woke up recently despite it being noon, Nayeon’s roommate chirped, “Check the nightstand. She always stuffs random stuff in there.”

 

Taking Momo’s advice, Jeongyeon cracked open the drawer and found her prize. “Thank you! Thank you!” She gave her helpmate a tackling hug.

 

“Don’t sweat it,” Momo shrugged it off.

 

Jeongyeon couldn’t stop expressing her gratitude. “Still, I owe you one.”

 

“What are you talking about? We’re a married couple.” Even if it was in paper only.

 

 

* * *

**_Brief spoilers from the next chapter (in no particular order):_ **

Mina recalled having heard someone say that in every meeting there was a parting. She turned around to look at her friend leaving for a second longer. Wanting to meet again, but also wanting to part. 

Sana’s desiccated lips hung on to Dahyun’s now desecrated lips.

“What are you, a teacher’s pet?”

“I’m going to move out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some surprising relationships and identities right? Even in this AU most of Twice already know each other, lol. But there are still plenty of other connections and other surprises to be unveiled!
> 
> Let me know what you think so far. Feel free to leave comments! :)


	4. Child’s Play (Part I)

 

 

 _All the world is bound by love’s ties; Why did I think that I alone should escape?_   Dahyun read these ancient lines of poetry with particular interest. She found the connection to herself as a good reader often did, then severed it like a runaway train cart. She may have been a modest rebel of some sorts by her family’s account, yet the days of childhood mischievousness had run short. They were now to be ousted along with the wildest of her desires. The desires she unwittingly held onto discreetly, letting none puncture them except for the occasional dialogue.

 

“What are you reading, sunbae?” the high school student shadowing her asked. “Are you practicing Japanese again?”

 

Dahyun put down her phone, giving the younger girl she had been charged with giving a guide of her school to her full attention. “Chinese, actually,” she answered modestly. It was expected of her. Knowing Chinese was a staple for old family names such as hers. Traditions were venerated despite their present impracticality. Very rigid and supposedly upright lifestyle followed along with them.

 

“Wow, that’s so awesome!” Chaeyoung marveled. “I can’t believe you’re still keeping up with that. I can barely remember all the English I’m trying to cram into my brain before finals.” Though they had lived only two buildings apart for quite some time now, it seemed they were two long transit stops away from each other instead. It was the same as their houses back home. Chaeyoung’s was a modern farm house in the countryside, Dahyun’s was a preserved aristocratic house from the previous century preserved and upgraded through generous government donations and a proud and illustrious family line.

 

It was this precise family line that kept Dahyun in line. To compliments such as Chaeyoung’s, Dahyun could only give a gentle rebuff as accustomed. It was tiring. She would compliment Chaeyoung back, but she spared them both from empty words. Neither of them were in the mood. What she could offer Chaeyoung instead was attention from one of her favorite unnies – her. “Your hair looks great today Chaeyoungie!” Dahyun admired aloud. She took the two puffy edges and squished them together. “You’re like a squishy mushroom.”

 

Chaeyoung gleamed. She was about to reply with smugness when her classmate ran into the subway train and sat down next to her, raggedly breathless. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to be late for sure,” she asked Tzuyu between pats on the back.

 

“Water?” Dahyun offered her younger counterpart. Tzuyu was her protégé after all. While they were never close when they were in the same high school, it seems that the It Girl and Star Student positions Dahyun had once held had now been passed down to this young foreigner. The least she could do was offer her hydration. She knew the drain of such titles and their like better than the extensive collections of foreign literature she had memorized.

 

Tzuyu bowed low with a hitched breath. “Thank you, sunbae!” She didn’t know how Dahyun had done this for so many years and continued to prosper. Tzuyu still had her last year to go before college and she was already only half of the energetic and youthful girl she had been. Her mind swirled not with dreams, but with worries.

 

Catching on to Tzuyu’s distress as further witnessed by the black bags under her eyes, Dahyun parted her disheveled hair for her. “Do you want to tour the university with me and Chaeyoung today?” she offered. “We’re going to get cheese kimbap afterwards too. My treat.” Saying thus, she looked out of the corner of her eye to see if her favorite cheese-kimbap-loving unnie sitting not too far away would spare her a glance. Sana did, though Dahyun turned away as she often did before such passing looks could turn into prolonged eye contact.

 

Tzuyu shook her head. “I have somewhere to go before my afternoon classes,” she declined, giving herself away by also looking into Sana’s direction. She had met Sana briefly while dropping Jihyo off. Now she offered her another polite bow of acknowledgment, wondering where Jihyo was and how she was faring walking on her own. Was she still at home? They were supposed to meet there after all.

 

Following Tzuyu’s eyes, Dahyun squinted her own in confusion. She had heard unsavory rumors before. Rumors pertaining to Sana’s unchecked interest in female dongsaengs. Such things were often said about Sana in the class where she was the teacher assistant. Scandalous words whispered through the grapevines until they flowered into poisonous fruits. It was one of the many reasons Dahyun had decided to keep her student and private tutor relationship with Sana quiet. That along the fact that Sana was here on a student visa. Working for money was technically illegal. But legality had never stopped Sana before. She did what she loved, and she loved Dahyun as much as she loved languages. She had said so herself.

 

Regardless of what others had to say, Dahyun had brushed them off as misunderstandings due to Sana’s loving nature. However, right now she was uncertain. Sana always had twinkling eyes of love for everyone and anyone, and slick sweet words to match. It was hard to be sure when she was serious. And considering how wide her smile got upon matching Tzuyu’s bow, Dahyun felt baffled. More than baffled. A word she wouldn’t say.

 

“I’m jealous,” Chaeyoung said out of the blue, catching both of their attention. “It must be so nice to have such long legs, Tzuyu. You were running super late and you still managed to catch up.” Apparently, Chaeyoung had been so absorbed scanning Tzuyu she had missed the ten seconds or so of loaded silent interactions.

 

Tzuyu rebutted, laughing. “You’re faster. They call you a baby cub, but you’re more like a full-fledged jaguar on the school track.”

 

“Hm, well,” Chaeyoung flipped her hair. Instantly regretting it upon remembering that it was no longer at its long golden cascading length. “I guess you’re right.” Tzuyu’s joy was an infectious spell Chaeyoung was gladly affected by. In spite of her towering height, her tall same-age friend seemed like a small dongsaeng. One that cared for her even though she wasn’t the best of the best sister to her. Although Chaeyoung was a scholarship student from a faraway province while Tzuyu was an invited exchange student, they had a mutual dependence. One that Chaeyoung had recently largely forgone. She had searched for potential love in lieu of friendship, and it had done nothing but brought both of them pain.

 

With remorse’s jab on her heart, Chaeyoung held Tzuyu’s hand, patting it like her mom often did for her. The thought of her mom had her slipping further into her to own mind and away from the present situation. She flew back to the past in her mind’s eye, back to the days where her mother would do nails for celebrities while also working odd jobs on the side. Those were the days where Chaeyoung was immature, had more against the world than she had now, and was ungrateful. An ungrateful silly child.

 

She remembered yelling at her mom, ashamed that her mom would ask sunbaes and others from the entertainment world to look out for her daughter. In asking others to look after her, Chaeyoung’s mom had felt she was doing the most she could to further her career without connections to booster them for her. Chaeyoung wouldn’t have it. She threw fit after fit.

 

“I’m fine on my own, mom! I don’t need you degrading me.” she would yell at her mother, even in public. Chaeyoung cringed at the memory of her youthful rage.

 

It was one night after such an outburst that she heard her mother’s soft on the other side of her door. “Chaeyoung-ah,” she called to her affectionately ever the more, “I got the business card of a well-known Japanese dancer today from her mom.”

 

“Go away, mom!” Chaeyoung’s muffled pubescent scream from her pillow hackled at the poor woman. “I don’t want to look at it.”

 

Her tired mother could only sigh. “Her mom said you could get free lessons there if you wanted. I’ll just leave it for you here under the door.” With that she left.

 

Hours later, young Chaeyoung would stroke her then long hair, look by the door to see the last name Myoui on the business card and gasp. She ran to hug her mom, crying and apologizing. Now in the present, Chaeyoung wasn’t so sure she should’ve picked up that card in the first place.

 

***

 

Momo shouldn’t have picked up the necklace in the first place. She wasn’t definitively certain it belonged to the former dancer from the bus. She had seen Mina’s necklaces often enough to notice a trend, observed her curiously from a range enough times to see the many varieties of cross-adorn simple necklaces she often worn. Momo huffed at her own desperation. Was she so desperate to befriend this woman that she was willing to run after her with a dropped necklace that might not even be hers? Whining under her breath, Momo maneuvered through the crowds, forever chasing after Mina. Of course, she did not know this was her name, and so, had no way to call out to her.

 

“Wait!” she reached out to her, gripping her shoulder when she had caught up at last.

 

Mina turned in shock. Meeting her eyes was her Saint Benedict medal waving about on its string in Momo’s firm hands. Instinctively, Mina’s hands went to her bare neck. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much!” she thanked profusely.

 

Momo nodded silently, trying not to breath heavily and give away her exhaustion.

 

A former dancer, Mina noted the exhaustion in Momo’s body movement. She was delighted. Fate had given her an opportunity with just the woman she had been waiting for. “Let me treat you to something.”

 

“I…” Momo began. She had another appointment to attend to shortly. But how could she refuse the elegant woman? She smelled of fancy department stores and the most exquisite perfumes. Seeing her close up for the second time, Momo could see that even her simple silver heart earrings said Gucci on them. She wouldn’t be surprised if her simple shirts and shorts – her signature look – did the same. On the contrary, it wasn’t these hidden brands that captivated her, it was Mina’s unadorned, yet alluring face. A face that was anything except simple. One of a pained beauty, free from makeup, yet more glistening than that of a heavily made up celebrity. And so, she could only give her one answer. “You really don’t have to, but if you insist, sure. I’m always up for a quick snack!”

 

That was how Mina found herself face to face with Momo. Over a table of cheese kimbap, yukhoe, and other snacks, they were both smiling like idiots without a single word to say to each other. They had already discussed the weather, complimented minor details about the other, hit all the small talk topics. And now, both awkward in their own skin to begin with, they were momentarily silent.

 

Mina, a painfully quiet introvert, and Momo, a timid and shy follower. They were the most matching yet mismatching pair around. Without a leader, they sat in silence indefinitely. Looking up, then hastily looking down. Silent, then laughing at each other’s awkwardness. Mina knew to expect as much. She had a way of repelling people with her silence. Making friends was never her forte, though she was great at a great deal of other things.

 

All throughout her school life, kids had thought of Mina as an emo girl and loner, straying far from her nervous gaze that they mistook for a cold stare. For these reasons, Mina tried to look upon Momo extra tenderly. She noted her quavering lips that opened to talk for one second and closed the next. Wanting not to lose her too, Mina did the hardest thing for her: she initiated a real conversation. A deep one. “You were right, you know. I was a dancer until a couple years back.”

 

Momo debated what to say back. Should she say that she knew based on her bag, or a simple one-worded reply of recognition instead? At a lost, Momo bit her lips and nodded. She read Mina although she was never known to read people nor books. Mina talked with a mouse of a voice. Straining to hear her in the crowded shop, Momo had to resort to nerve-rackingly inching closer and staring at her lips to figure out what she was saying. Mina had a habit of running her tongue under her sharper canine teeth on the left side of her mouth. To others, including Momo, it looked like she was constantly licking her lips. And this made Momo even more nervous than usual.

 

“You dance too, don’t you? You have great body observation skills.” Mina deducted. She hadn’t spoken of anything related to dance in quite some time. Now the words flowed out of her, wanting to gush out like her overwhelming emotions.

 

Momo nodded eagerly. She had been upset to hear that Mina was no longer a dancer. She had been looking forward to working with her, seeing that she was affiliated with the studio she would soon be a part of. Talk of dance would be enough for her though. It was the topic she was most comfortable talking about. Still struggling with the nuances of the Korean language, Momo became a language pro when it came to talk of the dance world.

 

“It must be such a thrill and such a challenge for you, working here in Korea as a dancer. You’re Japanese as well, right?” Mina assumed based on Momo’s accent which mirrored her own. The heavy satoori-esque intonations did not escape her fine ears.

 

Nodding again, Momo found her voice. Squeaky but excited, and in her mother tongue instead of Korean. “Yes! You’re right!” First dance, now Japan. Mina was really hitting home. “Where are you from? Where did you dance?” she hurdled the questions at her in rapid succession.

 

 Mina matched her excitement with enthusiasm. Only, where should she begin her tale? She was supposed to only be a visiting dancer in Korea. She was simply a tourist whose rare privilege spared her not from the unusual track her life had taken. A train of unforeseen circumstances. Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel was not something to look forward to, but rather an oncoming train. And Mina had been hit hard. “I–” she began.

 

An alarm when off on Momo’s phone, cutting Mina off. Momo hastily took out her phone. A big phone in an even bigger whimsical bunny hand puppet phone case, a perfect reflection of Momo. A loud and drawn out “ _eh?_ ” came out of Momo. Time really flew when you were with someone you found interest in, regardless of how dull most of your talk may seem. “I have to go,” she vocalized with much regret.

 

“Ah, I see.” Mina bit back a scowl. So they were destined to be over before they began, she surmised. She wouldn’t ask for her number. She was too nervous and proud for that. A bad combination. “It was nice talking to you.” Mina guessed this would be the end. She had been a foolish child to wish for more. In the real world, people met and parted all the time. She had been naïve to wish for more. Besides, she had somewhere to go as well.

 

Waiving bye, the two got back to their own tracks. They walked for some distance, leaving more satisfied and also more dissatisfied than before they had talked. Mina recalled having heard someone say that in every meeting there was a parting. She turned around to look at her onetime potential friend leaving for a second longer. Wanting to meet again, but also wanting to part. Every ending was a beginning, and maybe in her next meeting Mina was about to find her own true beginning.

 

***

 

It was beginning to pour down hard. The cold weather may have bypassed Korea’s long winter last winter, but the spring showers made up for it twofold. Ushering in a parade of moist frosty droplets, the unfortunate civilians departing the subway station were drenched and running. The rain had come as unexpectedly as the cold accompanying it.

 

By the time Dahyun got home to meet Sana at her front door, both were aquatic animals. Wet and out in the open. “I’m so sorry!” Dahyun kept apologizing. “I lost track of time.”

 

“It’s okay,” Sana reassured her, shivering hard. “I only waited for a bit in the rain.” A bit was more than ten minutes of indecision, freezing her body away as her cracked lips chattered. She had wanted to call Dahyun only to reach into her purse and realize she had left her phone along with her umbrella at home. She had wanted to leave, yet more than anything, she also wanted to stay.

 

 _Liar_ , Dahyun thought, looking at Sana’s now semi-transparent office dress. Inside, Dahyun herded them both to her restroom. Turning on the blow dryer she had left plugged in by accident, she offered to dry Sana off. “Unnie, come here.”

 

After a long day of grading papers without pay, Sana collapsed onto Dahyun’s back. “I’m so tired, Dahyun.”

 

Dahyun too was exhausted from a long day. Sana gave her energy, but she also gave her a tiresome longing that she could do without for the time being. Rather, she knew she _should_ do without. “Unnie, should we end today’s lesson early so you can get home early?”

 

“No! I don’t want to,” Sana sounded out loud, a fitful child of a woman. “I want to stay here with Dahyunie!” She wrapped her arms around her. Her grandmother had taught her to hold on tight to the things she loved most, and she did just that.

 

One time, Dahyun had told Sana that she had been likened to her grandmother. The one that had set her whole Kim clan aflame with her conversion to Christianity, the foreigners’ religion. She had actually ended up spearheading a major movement for reform in their heavily Confucian extended family in the long term. This same grandmother was the only one that supported Dahyun from the start of her fascination with Japanese culture at a young age. They saw too much of each other in themselves to the family’s dismay. There dismay was Sana’s pleasure. Where would she and Dahyun be without revolutionary outspoken supportive grandmothers? They were still children after all. Children playing in the complicated adult world with complicated adult feelings they had yet to get used to.

 

For the duration of their lessons, they would be each other’s sacred space. Together and alone. A free world for two. This restroom was no different. The hot air of the blow dryer muffled all other noises creating a serene environment only for Sana and Dahyun. A temporary escape.

 

In this void of sound, this void of others, Dahyun turned to see nothing but Sana’s dry lips. The same ones she had offered to alleviate. Gathering her courage, she took a breath. She drew her lips in, wet them, and then slowly puckered. The closer she got, the closer Sana did as well.

 

And then their lips met. A simple kiss. A simple kissed turned intense. Sana’s desiccated lips hung on to Dahyun’s now desecrated lips. Lip to lip, they expressed their pent-up longing. Tongue to tongue, they tasted the sweetness of desire. And now, arms in arms they held onto their love. Making it blatant.

 

Too bad it was all a daydream. A child’s fanciful imagination. Dahyun’s to be exact. And Dahyun’s alone. It was only in her head, always only in her head.

 

“Dahyun, what are you doing? You’re blow drying the wall, not me,” Sana laughed. “You silly kid.” She held her tighter.  

 

Dahyun leaned back against Sana, needed her support for what she feared she was about to say.

 

* * *

**_Brief spoilers from the next chapter (in no particular order):_ **

“You know Chewy.com, don’t you? Who do you think it’s named after?”

Jihyo smiled. Nayeon and Jeongyeon were still just like her real parents after all this time.

Checking her phone for the first time in hours, Sana saw the missed text message on her phone. _You know that in Ponyo they end up together, right? Tell that to your Ponyo friend._

“You again,” she said smiling.


	5. Child’s Play (Part II)

   

“How do you want your nails done today, Mina?” a familiar motherly voice asked her. It was an infectious voice that filled the entire tiny shop. The small salon was deceptive. While a quarter the size of the larger salons, it was its’ cozy comforts that the trending elites of Seoul sought out. The nail technicians and makeup artists here were full of stories to tell of the rich and famous, even if their wallet were not nearly as full.

 

Such was the comfort that Mina sought with her visit – the familiarity of others even at her own potential discomfort. And so, she smiled up at Chaeyoung’s mom. “Just one plain color coat will do.” She didn’t need to come here to get her nails done. It was but a convenient excuse for a woman with hesitant words, and too much anxiety to find a reason to voice them otherwise.

 

Chaeyoung’s mom was all-knowing. She had known Mina for years now, and could practically call her a child of her own. “You’re here for Chaeyoung, aren’t you?”

 

“Ah,” Mina began. But like the mess she had caused with Chaeyoung, she didn’t know how to finish.

 

The clever mom she occasionally confined in relieved her. “She’ll be back soon.” Having said this, as if by a mother’s curfew summoning, Chaeyoung came in, shaking off her umbrella. Her mom nudged her head, telling Mina to go ahead.

 

Softly grinding her lips between her teeth, Mina approached apprehensively. Her heart on her sleeves, obvious like the signals that conductors follow. Yet Mina was self-steering blindly. No cues to follow. This was out of her domain, in an offbeat track she would usually skid over. But Chaeyoung wasn’t a convenient pathway, she was a complicated choice. A lesser known road not on the navigational devices. “Chaeyoung!” Mina called out, following Chaeyoung to the back of the shop.

 

With a door closed behind them, Chaeyoung who had attempted to skirt away unnoticed was now cornered. “What do you want?” she slashed out. Unkindliness and anger were two things Chaeyoung had rarely associated with her interactions with Mina. Until now.

 

The words Mina had rehearsed, expecting to pour out was caught in her throat. They retracted themselves as they were on the verge of running forward, refusing to speed ahead. Why was it that the child she had played with growing up now stood as an intimidating woman before her?

 

“You again?” Mina would say smiling whenever Chaeyoung came prancing in. They had days of laughter then, days of carefree youth long past. Today, it seemed it was Chaeyoung giving Mina those same words. A harsh retort, not a caring question. Kindness not remotely in sight, and perhaps rightfully so. _Why are you here in front of me again? I thought by ignoring you and no longer stopping by that you’d get the hint,_ Chaeyoung’s strong imposing scowl seemed to say. True, Chaeyoung contemplated saying these words. How could she though? Mina was her childhood and her adolescence. Her childhood crush, and her first unrequited love. It pained her more than she knew it could ever pain Mina.

 

Mina, no stranger to perhaps more severe forms of pain, could only reply to this child she had thought she knew with a single word. “Sorry.” A loaded word. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to lead you on.” She choked up. _Can we still be friends? Can we forget all of this and go back to how we were?_ Those words built up as lumps in her throat. Inexpressible and menacing.

 

“Is that all you have to say?”

 

“I– I was supposed to go meet with someone else today. But…but I came to see you instead.”

 

Chaeyoung would not let her off easy. A wounded girl in her tender most years under the disguise of a toughened artist want-to-be was still a fragile girl. She sought to inflict the wounds back many times over in her childish rage. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? That I’m better than some unknown stranger?”

 

With tearless sobs but tears mounting, Mina had only one word left in her. “Sorry,” she muttered again, with megatons of explosive agony. She knew it then that she couldn’t make things right. That things would never be the same. In each meeting, there was a parting. She feared this meeting would be a permanent parting. She had tried despite her doubts. She had also failed in confirmation of them. She was weak, she told herself.

 

“No. I’m sorry,” Chaeyoung surprised Mina with these soft words. All her life Chaeyoung made up contrasts in her mind. Constantly comparing herself to others, being saddened by the disparities. Now, she had one more to be dishearten over. “Sorry I’m not the strong man that you need me to be.”

 

***

 

“Man, will this strong rain ever let up?” Nayeon whined to her plus one. Jihyo was kind enough to keep her company for the time being. Jeongyeon was running late on her chore, fetching her camera, and Nayeon could not be left waiting alone. Boredom and crankiness would rupture over, spewing into rage onto Jeongyeon. The years that had passed did not change this; Jihyo had anticipated as much.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Nayeon patted Jihyo on the knee. Her needless reassurance gave Jihyo physical pain. Quite literally. It was her bad knee that she had put pressure on. Jihyo winced. The awkwardness of a new mom would be a befitting way to described how Nayeon scrambled about, trying to make up for her blunder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” she screeched. Worry changed to frustration. “Have you been walking on it this whole time without a crutch or a cast?!”

 

Jihyo laughed uneasily. She was a kid making excuses. “They’re uncomfortable. And I don’t want the kids I teach thinking I’m weak.”

 

“And this is any better?” mother Nayeon straight out yelled. “You foolish kid.” Her final word, _kid_ , struck a chord in her. Where had she been for Jihyo all these years? They had vanished from each other’s lives. An unnecessary parting in Nayeon’s mind. Their games of house long behind them, Nayeon still wanted the title of being Jihyo’s mom, even if Jeongyeon was no longer the other mom. “Rest on this bench,” she directed her child. A child that was more mature than her, she would later discover. For now, Jihyo was a smiling fool, accepting whatever admonishing Nayeon wanted to lay on her.

 

As the rain around them let up, so did Nayeon and Jihyo. The unfamiliarity time had caused slowly mended itself through lingering familial bonds forged long ago. The tenderness of a mother-daughter-like friendship shined on that dark day, illuminating the drenched park. A picture-perfect scene that Jeongyeon had to capture. _Click._ The shutter and flash went off moments before the camera died.

 

“Where have you been?!” Nayeon shot up to scold the late arriver. “And did you come without charging the camera battery? Did it just die?!”

 

“Ya, be grateful I even brought it here in the rain!” Jeongyeon fought back. Just like that, they broke out in another mild argument. One that would undoubtingly end in minor annoyance and immature self-imposed penalties.

 

“Why are you doing this in front of Jihyo? We just ran into her again after so many years!” Nayeon berated, hands crossed.

 

Jeongyeon turned to her instantly. “Oh, hi Jihyo!” she glistened with glee however short-lived. Never one to lose an argument, the supposedly more mature of the childhood friends found another counterargument against Nayeon and set her course on verbally demolishing her.

 

Jihyo reeled with joy, just sitting and listening. Nayeon and Jeongyeon were still just like her real parents after all this time. They were always meant to be, Jihyo thought. She had thought so since the days of their youth. Remembrance also led to insight. On the thought of friends turned lovers, Jihyo remembered Sana’s Ponyo-like friend and sent her roomie a quick text.

 

***

 

Outside of Dahyun’s house and alone, Sana phantom heard her phone dinging, imagined it lit up with text notifications, and her leaving it be. If she had been at her cozy apartment with her phone, she wouldn’t answer anyone, she told herself. Not Jihyo, not her other friends and family, not even the girl who had just scorn her. Sana’s head was the object ringing the strongest of all. The comforts of a text and her dry and cushy home were no match for the comforts of a real person. This person was none other than Momo with an oversized umbrella, fit for the occasion. Sana’s Totoro friend. Only, she was more than a friend.

 

Momo came with a gentle smile in contrast to the nasty rain. She was a mild young woman. One that had also sat in the lap of comfort, like Mina growing up. She had come from a pleasant family. A doctor father, a stay-at-home mom, and an older sister who also danced. They were a picture-perfect family. Too bad no one ever told her dad that. He had more than one family. In fact, he had many. And Sana was just another byproduct of his philandering ways.

 

In contrast to his womanizing, his several daughters remained loyal to each other. A strained sisterhood it may be, it was a trying childhood they all shared. Here on this occasion to save Sana, Momo rushed over to her half-sister. “Why are you out in the rain? What’s the point of telling me to come with an umbrella if you’re going to stand outside like this?”

 

A wimp mirage of a smile flashed across Sana’s stained face. “Does it matter if I can’t tell my tears apart from the rain?”

 

Momo hadn’t noticed. She put an arm around Sana’s soaked shoulder and pulled her in under her protection, shielding her from the storm outside and in. “What happened?” she asked as they walked along.

 

“I was fired,” came Sana’s simple response. Sana loved to dwell. She could linger on a feeling for days, be upset over an argument for days. But sadness was not a feeling she liked to keep close. It was an enemy rather than a friend, like how she had come to see Dahyun. The girl that she had made out to be a rebel and a heroine was still weak. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have it in her, and Sana didn’t either. They had loved courageous only to crumble pathetically because neither had dared to take the final step of affirmation.

 

In a stalemate there are no winners, only two surrenders. Dahyun had been the first to give up. She had given up on Sana, telling her she could do it no longer. That she had gotten all she could from her. In response, Sana had lied back. She had said it had been a good run while it lasted. She had told herself she would miss the job more than the client. But it had never been only a job. Sana was without cause, without purpose, and without support. Financial and emotional.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, would you?”

 

“Why?” Momo asked. 

 

A very sad Sana rambled needlessly, using words to fill a void. “I might have to move out if I can’t afford rent. No, I know I’ll have to soon. I’m going to have to move out.”

 

Momo knew better than to answer. Any words could cause Sana further mental collapse. Momo knew Sana like Jeongyeon knew Nayeon. Momo also took on Sana’s distress as her own. An unnecessarily cruel parting was something she had been through before. Sana’s words were also words she had heard before. “I’m going to move out,” Jeongyeon had said to her. It was shortly after their drunken night in Canada. The one they had waken up from to find themselves legally wed in a foreign country where it was legal. It had been an oddly convenient excuse for Momo to extend her visa. More particularly and mortifyingly, it had also wrecked her relationship with Jeongyeon in the process.

 

“Momo-ah.” Sana broke her laden remembrance. “We’re here at my house. Do you want to come in for a bit, sis?”

 

Momo shook her head. Sadness healed with the company of loved ones, but as with any wound, it also needed time to be exposed and alone.  “I should go. I missed meeting up with that girl dad wanted to introduce me to, to go pick you up. I should at least text her so she doesn’t wait around for no reason.”

 

“His coworker’s daughter? A blind friend date? Really? Who does dad think we are?” Sana chided. “We’re not all friendless bums. I have Jihyo and all my other side baes and you have Nayeon and Jeong–” She bit her tongue too late. She had already said too much. “Best get going then. Text her that you’ll meet up with her next time,” Sana changed her direction of advice. “You know my philosophy on women! Never let one slip by! You never know who could be your future bestie! Your future gal pal.” She faked cheerfulness for Momo’s sake.

 

As with Mina, Momo read through her like a book despite never reading books herself. “I know. I’ll text her later.” And with that, she left.

 

Sana closed the door behind her, sliding down against it on the other side. Remembering maybe the only thing that could ease her mind at this time, she ran for her phone after all. It was right where she had left it. At least it had a steady home, a safe place to rest unlike her…and her heart.

 

Checking her phone for the first time in hours, Sana saw the missed text message on her phone from Jihyo. _You know that in Ponyo they end up together, right? Tell that to your Ponyo friend._ Sana threw her phone down the second she read and processed the words. She no longer believed in the likelihood of such childish tales of love succeeding against all odds. They were mere snapshots of a child’s happiest moments, a train in still motion before heading back out into the dreadful weather, the wretched days of adulthood.  

 

Adulthood was a mess. It was constant worry over jobs, over love, over everything – including the conspicuous _knock, knock_ at the door. _Must be Momo coming back for something_ , Sana figured, swinging the door open once more. Partially true to her assumption, it was a familiar face. Just not Momo’s. “You again,” she said smiling. “What are you, a teacher’s pet?” she jested.

 

Tzuyu bowed a full ninety degrees per usual. Though a foreigner, she had the manners of a true well-bred Korean. In that respect, she reminded Sana too much of a certain someone for comfort. Imagining they were still in contact, she did exactly what she knew would peeve Dahyun the most. She invited Tzuyu in, with full intention to woo her.

 

Tzuyu, however, was quicker to get to her point. “Teacher Jihyo said she left a book for me on her desk?” She had been downcast by the sight of Sana at the door instead of her loving teacher. Tzuyu had grown attached too hastily. There was the lack of communication between her and her own roommate still. They had yet to talk about Chaeyoung’s on-going issues; it was something they walked around haphazardly like avoiding bumping into people in the overloaded station. Ignoring the occasional greetings between them and rarer minor skinship, there was next to nothing between them.

 

Tzuyu practically lived alone. She had very few to talk to besides her teacher that was always willing to give her pointers and accompaniment. These days, Tzuyu always helped her home. Jihyo much preferred Tzuyu’s warm soft back to the cold hard crutches or a stiff cast. Today though, Jihyo had been out of sight. She had promised to meet up with Tzuyu, and yet she was still not here. It looked identical to the beginning of the fall of a relationship. Tzuyu was pretty sure she had already lost Chaeyoung – the Chaeyoung she had known growing up in any case – through unfulfilled promises. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Not with the motherly teacher that had virtually taken her into her own home.

 

Sana on the other hand, was more willing to latch on to the closest source of warmth instead of lingering on maybes and vague relationships in the present. The future held no guarantee of love, so Sana seized it any moment she could. Especially now.

 

“I’ll get the book for you!” Sana offered. Her offer came at the cost of unneeded conversation. For she was lonely too. A lonesome child – she was an only child before finding out more about her father – needed attention and affection. A child like Sana was desperate enough for the lamest attempts at a conversation starter. “You’re Tzuyu, right? You know Chewy.com, don’t you? Who do you think it’s named after?” Sana cringed at herself instantly. It was the worst play on words that self-proclaimed pun master Sana had ever come up with, on the spot or not.

 

Tzuyu forced a laugh. Did Sana know that Tzuyu’s family made a fortune in selling pet goods? Did Jihyo tell her? This would be under the assumption that Jihyo knew as well, confirming Tzuyu’s suspicions about her.

 

* * *

 Dun dun! A sad and dramatic chapter, right? I know this update was heavier on dialogue, but the next chapter should have more things happening. The next chapter, Through the Looking Glass, will have more detailed flashbacks as well ^^ Let me know what you think so far!

 

Feel free to check out my other fanfic on here, _[Love and Magic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11271852?view_full_work=true)_ , while you’re waiting for an update. I also have other Twice fics on my  _[AFF](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view_author_stories/367964/L)_  (there’s a  _[Mimo](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1136402/precious-foreign-love-mina-girlxgirl-momo-twice-mimo)_  fic, a  _[TwicexGfriend](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1153347/the-navillera-story-begins-girlgroup-harem-originalcharacter-gfriend-twice)_  one, and other harem ones too) but they’re all rated… Feel free to take a look though, if that’s your thing~

 

 **_Spoilers for the next chapter_ ** _(in no particular order) **:**_

“Why do you only sometimes yell at me for not speaking to you formally?”

“Because I don’t always see you as only a dongsaeng.”

There was a time and place for everything. Now wasn't their time.

You’re just too afraid to admit that you love me. But I’m not afraid!

 


	6. Through the Looking Glass (Part I)

 

The muffled sound of the apartment door slowly creaking open greeted Sana’s ears, ringing out her conversation with Tzuyu. It wasn’t completely unwelcomed. Conversation with the straightforward and seemingly stale school girl was going nowhere like a long-decommissioned bullet train struggling not to be dismantled. Sana welcomed her roommate home with open arms, while Tzuyu noted her stiff gait.

 

“My roomie!” Sana exasperated. She rushed to her housing counterpart engulfing her in embrace. Jihyo quivered in response as if having been tackled. Her legs that were already shaking with pain from her bad decision to forgo her crutches threatened to buckle. She would have toppled over Sana (instead of the other way around for once) had it not been for a firm hand on her upper back.

 

Tzuyu had her back in more ways than one. “Teacher, are you okay?”

 

Jihyo gave a joyous smiling response, “Tzuyu, you’re still here? Did you get the book?” Seeing Tzuyu with book in hand, drinks on the living room table, and a keen-eyed Sana looking over them both, Jihyo caught up to what she had missed. It was about time she shooed the girl away from Sana for her own good. “I see that Sana helped you out,” she spoke speedily, “Best get going now. It’s getting late, and your dorm has a curfew!”

 

Before Sana could nudge a word in between the tightly-welded exchange, Tzuyu also made her excuses to exit. “Right. I should go.”

 

“Next time,” Jihyo assured her, with pats and a hair parting before their parting. “Sorry about this time. I ran into old friends, and I was obligated to show them around the new park.”

 

“She used to be a part-time tour guide!” Sana managed to butt in after all. Her spontaneous words of a woman who could not keep her lips sealed in effect incidentally crafted Jihyo’s demise. With recognition unreadable to Sana but blatant to Jihyo, Tzuyu scowled. She bowed politely and left hastily.

 

Jihyo stood momentarily unresponsive like either a superhero or a secret villain who had their cover blown. She had seen the look in Tzuyu’s eyes before. They reflected back her image with curiosity and doubt. She had seen them in the tourists she had led around famous site after site until she landed her job. Admittedly with nepotism’s help. This unspoken help was one that would be too close to home for Tzuyu, and Jihyo feared she had just figured it out. 

 

On the other side of the equation, Sana was out of the loop. While Jihyo stood unmoving, Sana found the picture swaying at her side. It was of two comical women on either of Jihyo’s side. All smiling and laughing like a family at the park. Coincidentally, like Jihyo’s real biological parents that Sana had come to know, she recognized one of Jihyo’s childhood guardians as well. “Yoo Jeongyeon,” she mouthed voicelessly.

 

Never sharp on hearing, but sharp on reading others, Jihyo picked herself up. She would disregard her own worry for now, deeming it needless until proof came about. For the time being, she would entertain to Sana’s follies instead. Clothes stiff from having been dried improperly, hair in slight tangles, and eyes only on the picture in Jihyo’s hand. Sana looked the mess she was. “You know her?” Jihyo offered as a conversation starter.

 

“I knew of her,” was Sana’s short reply. Their eyes met and mingled, yet their lips remained sealed with their respective secrets. Jihyo with her incessant worriment she could not trust Sana with, and Sana with a checkered past life and past love she would rather discard like the film that had been used in the photo’s development.

 

True as it may be that falling in and out of love was part of an individual’s development, Sana had locked herself in the film compartment of the camera. She would rather not reopen the case. For while she could see out through the lenses, through the thick glass into the world beyond, she also found it fearful now. Her passions had benefited her not. She was as alone as she had been when she first arrived. She had told herself this lie and come to believe it to an extent, but she knew it was no total truth. She had come here with Momo and with Hana years back. As they themselves wove into her life in Korea, there were also other women that wove themselves in just to messily undo the stitches later.

 

Sana would forget it not. Her then favorite unnie’s silky sheets. She had sprawled about on them, soaking up the extent of their coolness to combat the summer heat. The Sana of years ago adored these little sleepovers. She loved staying up all night. She loved talking about everything and anything that came to her mind. But the unnie she was with did not.

 

On that particular morning, Sana was rambling again. She chattered about the modeling gig she had tried per the unnie’s request, going on in excruciating details about meeting a particular new model. All these fanciful details about this model’s charisma and sporty charms were not received by the unnie’s busy ears. “Yes director-nim! I’ll be right there,” she blurted into the phone. She hurried out, but not before asking a task of Sana. “Sana, can you please pick up the clothes on the floor before you go?”

 

Sana flushed, both embarrassed and disappointed. But like the good dongsaeng she was, she did as told. Discarding the dirtied clothes in the clothing bin, she had a long look at the mirror. She was a woman now, she realized with a proud smile. She had been for a while in this blurry summer haze, only taking special notice of it now seeing her fine body in the mirror. Woman or not, the mischievousness so characteristic of youth still overtook her. And so, rummaging through her favorite unnie’s name brand lipsticks, Sana took out her favorite – a scarlet red one. Applying the daring shade to her dainty lips, she kissed the mirror and left an equally daring message. _Sana loves Yoo Seungyeon._

 

Sana would go on to remember that day as the first and last time she professed her love to that unnie. To any unnie. Unnies that would call her out for her youthful blunders and immaturities. From then on, she vowed to be the unnie. An unnie to all. And it was under this mindset that she met Dahyun. “Kim Dahyun,” she remembered calling the pristine student’s name aloud.

 

The then college junior fretted with sweaty palms. Getting a mid-term back was stressful for any student. For the student at the top, it was utmost stress. “Here!” Dahyun announced unnecessarily, getting out of the aisle of seats most non-majestically. She knocked school supplies and backpacks about, earning jeers, and earning Sana’s eyes as well. With a deep and sincere bow, Dahyun retrieved her test. Seeing her test score, she pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger, squinting and raising her head in complete satisfaction. “Yes!” she praised herself.

 

Sana felt a dainty laugh taking over her. Laughter that was accompanied by a hankering that was better not to name in retrospect. Yet at the time, she thought of it as not a yearning for love, rather jubilation in finding someone much like herself. Before Sana could restrain herself, she praised the girl as well. “Good job, Kim Dahyun.”

 

Silence.

 

Those were the first words Sana had said to Dahyun besides calling out her name for attendance and to give back assignments, they both realized. It was then that Sana knew knowing her name would not be enough. It was following this incident that the small talk and then longwinded office hours conversations began. Their equivalence of courting perhaps. Dahyun had become another of Sana’s dongsaengs. Same with the many girls Sana accompanied herself with in her youth, they would be inseparable. Same with her childhood friends, it wasn’t long until she would invite herself over. Over for a long stay only because knowing Dahyun’s name was no longer enough.

 

***

 

It was not enough for Dahyun. No amount of reading could occupy her thoughts. Her thoughts were already pre-occupied with a single name. A name that was not sufficient to say she once knew. _Minatozaki Sana._ Her former teacher’s assistant, her former tutor, and her friend among several other titles. She was a woman with multiple roles like the actors in archaic plays, dazzling with every new persona they showcased. All of which were more glamorous than the next, more and more enthralling and captivating until the audience found themselves wanting to elope with the actor in their trance.

 

Under said trance, Dahyun had no longer recognized herself in the mirror. Seeing Sana latched on to her that rainy night like a leech to its knowing and enamored benefactor, she had made a call. A final emergency call to the last of her sanity. She could hear bells in this moment of clarity, hearing them through Sana’s eye’s mind. _You’re just too afraid to admit that you love me. But I’m not afraid!_ Sana’s clinging onto her seem to say. That was just it. Dahyun was afraid. She was petrified.

 

When Dahyun had graduated from her art school, her parents had not been there. None of her relatives of her extensive clan were. They were like her – afraid of change. Afraid of something so revolutionary and against custom. The arts were for fools and fools in love. Dahyun should perhaps identify herself as fitting both of these categories.

 

Dahyun was captivated. Her full interest had been seized by the magic of words only parallel to the magic of her tutor. Even the book she kept by her bed and was now flipping through was one that had been recommended by Sana. “Have you heard of _The Tale of Genji_?” she had asked her on a blazing summer night, one that had scorched them into leaving on only their oversized tops over pajama briefs.

 

Of course Dahyun knew the tale. It was a Japanese classic. One of love and love lost. Nonetheless, she let Sana explain away. There was a melodic airiness in Sana’s voice. A singsong harmony that told the most mundane stories and taught the most redundant lessons with refreshment. It was a narration that Dahyun dazed in and out of, sometimes with eyes on Sana’s lips other times with ears on her kindred voice.

 

With this amount of attention, Dahyun still managed to catch the gist of Sana’s elaborate summary, mainly the end. “Genji’s life ends with a blank page announcing his death. It was an ending that couldn’t be written, but an implicit one that we all understand. It’s just too sad for words.” If Dahyun hadn’t fulling grasp the meaning then, she surely did now. She was also too sad for words. The page that she starred down on were filled with words. To her though, it seemed blank. A voided passage. An empty train matching her lacking train of thoughts.

 

It was over. A life of love she and Genji had lived. Dahyun herself had unwritten the words unsaid. She had ended the authoring of her and Sana’s tale. The tale of passion had soured into an unfinished piece of dispassion, withering away like a burning book. It had been Dahyun who lit the summer flames, asking Sana to be a tutor she did not need. It had also been Dahyun who extinguished it with spring rains.

 

“Good job, Kim Dahyun,” Sana had told her that night before leaving one last time. “Thank you for all your hard work. Thank you for everything.”

 

 _Good job, Kim Dahyun_ , Dahyun bitterly commended herself. She had really done it. The composition was over, but like a true author, Dahyun came up with a final conclusion to attempt to close her open-endedness wonderings. She had been in love, she admitted at last. She had loved, and she had lost. Lost to her own entrapments of false righteousness and outdated morals. Lost to the permeating tremors of fear that stained her life’s pages. Lost to her inability to fully and outrightly love Sana back. And so, Dahyun set her book down. It was a tale she already knew, one she had already cried over many, many times.

 

***

 

Nayeon would not cry again. She already had, and many times too. She was a logical adult, she tried to convince herself in vain. Adult or not, she still cried over the sweet reunion picture she now held in hand. There had been three identical ones that she had developed in a rush. One for her, one for Jeongyeon, and one for Jihyo. Their escapade had been an unexpected blessing, an unasked-for miracle. Fearing it would not last, that it would rupture prematurely like her dreams of being and idol had and now her dreams of becoming a teacher seem to, she had captured the moment. People frozen in time like those in Pompeii, like trapped travelers on a broken train, the three pairs of eyes looked back at her. In the mirror orbs were joy just as there were pains.

 

“Ya, Im Nayeon, how long to do plan to overdramatically cry over that picture?” Jeongyeon questioned her sentimental friend. It was late in the night, and she was still there. Momo would be home soon also, and she was someone that Jeongyeon subtly avoided when possible. Once a best friend, a Vega-esque mix up had them marked as spouses. It was a title that did not settle well with anyone in this household, especially not Nayeon. For her sake, always for her sake, Jeongyeon would walk herself out of the picture, remaining distant until called for.

 

Her consideration was met with irked unsettledness. “Ya?!” Nayeon repeated with heighted pitch. She was emotional not mindless. Rolling her eyes, she took her camera and gingerly bopped Jeongyeon’s head with it. “Mind your elders Yoo Jeongyeon! What would your celebrity chef parents or angel-like unnie, Seungyeon, say if they heard you talking like this?”

 

Jeongyeon furrowed. The Yoo family name weighed on her. A bunch of celebrity figures with clean-slates, and she was not one of them. For she, as the youngest, had seen the ugly behind the scenes. _They’re not all what they seem to be. Especially my unnie_ , Jeongyeon wanted to say. But those were things her and Nayeon both knew and kept to themselves, like a deep buried fossil to be forgotten to time instead of being dug up and marveled at. There was no fascination in looking at corpses. No worthy curiosity there, if you asked Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Instead, Jeongyeon had a different question that she asked without care to counter Nayeon’s scolding. “Why do you only sometimes yell at me for not speaking to you formally?”

 

Nayeon smiled easily. “Because I don’t always see you as only a dongsaeng.” She hesitated, then fearing the slightest squint of Jeongyeon’s eyes added, “Sometimes, you’re also a bratty asshole who I consider the same age so I don’t mind going off on.”

 

“Ya!” Jeongyeon growled again. She locked Nayeon in the pit of her arm. Nayeon squirmed and fought back with wailing arms. They play-wrestled like this until both were panting and their bellies hurt from laughter. In the mirror, they appeared as two childhood best friends. Jeongyeon as fun-loving yet solidary-appearing as ever, while Nayeon was hopeless as ever. Still trying to find security for herself, she hesitated to extend her longings to the person closest to her. She would not worry Jeongyeon with her feelings for not, not while they could still play carelessly together like this. There was a time and place for everything. Now wasn’t their time.

 

* * *

Thanks so much for the warm reception for the story thus far! ^^ I’m still trying to get the word out on this fic, so please do recommend it to others and promote if you can.

There will be more actual action to come since I couldn't fit everything I wanted in this update, and I'll also go more into the back stories later. I was actually going to update my harem fics, but this story just takes over my mind. Hope you enjoy it and support to see what’s to come! Let me know what you think so far though~

 

 **_Spoilers for the next chapter_ ** _(in no particular order) **:**_

“Should I introduce you to Mina?” Jeongyeon asked.

“Mina,” Momo repeated the Japanese name fondly. “Who’s that?”

“How can I help you?” Jihyo asked the older Taiwanese tourist lady.

 


	7. Through the Looking Glass (Part II)

 

 

“Time’s up!” a rigid staff signaled at the JYPE trainees. In his suit and wrinkled ashy face, he looked like he meant business. For the young Nayeon and Jeongyeon and the other trainees, they knew this all too well. “All of you who haven’t been called out have failed your weekly evaluation.” It was a company tradition, a weekly evaluation to weed out trainees who they found lacking. An endless Hunger Games not for those weak of heart. Headstrong yet tender Nayeon was no exception.

 

The then teenage Nayeon waited for him and the other disappointed and jeering staff members to leave before slumping down. She was on stage with the other failed trainees, while Jeongyeon sat with the passing ones including little Jihyo. They were inches apart and a whole world apart all at once. Her friends would settle the score yet. Jeongyeon was already running towards her to bridge the gap, leading Jihyo in hand. Nayeon had always been soft around children, but even Jihyo’s big watery eyes that clearly displayed her love her for unnie couldn’t assuage her unhappiness. Not today.

 

“Don’t say anything,” Nayeon spat at Jeongyeon. She had heard it all. This was the seventh consecutive week that she had failed. A new record, everyone would surely remind her. She didn’t want to hear Jeongyeon’s sugared words telling her she’ll make it next time. This wasn’t a slump. Other trainees would hit a wall and either climb over or walk away. Nayeon had tried several times to climb hers and failed. She felt lacking. Unable to improve, she was afraid she had truly hit the height of her learning curb. It was all over now. She already knew. And so, she ran from the truth, avoiding it along with the people who cared for her.

 

Giving Nayeon a head start, Jeongyeon watched her run with her face in her hands, covering her tears. She felt a tug on her heart that matched the tug on her shirt.

 

“Will she be okay?” little Jihyo asked her. Small as she was, Jihyo had learned the feeling of pity. Not empathy per say. It was a rough call in the cutthroat entertainment world. It was your friends succeeding and debuting or you. And with years of practice and parents’ bleeding hearts at risk, every trainee thought first and foremost of themselves. Jihyo loved Nayeon. She really did. Yet, the field they wanted to become acknowledged in pit them at each other. One’s success was another’s failures. Friends against friends, and Jihyo hated it. What could she do though? It was all she had ever known ever since she was casted in elementary school. No, ever since her parents first signed her up to be an infant model. Her whole life had been spent watching people leave in tears, and being unable to find her own until it was too late. She wished others the best, while also wishing herself better. Pushing herself harder.

 

Jeongyeon held her cheeks softly. “Eventually,” she said, not completely lying. Nayeon was one who needed much time and space to heal. Counting the minutes however, Jeongyeon figured she had enough. It was time to reel her in and offer her open arms. “You stay here, Jisoo. I’m going to run after Nayeon. If a trainer asks where I am, tell them I’m taking a quick restroom break!”

 

Jihyo had no time to reply before Jeongyeon left. In a few minutes when a trainer taking roll call asked for Jeongyeon, Jihyo did not lie. “She ran after Nayeon unnie again,” she tattled with a child’s heart, but also a pitiful adult’s shrewdness. 

 

“Damn it, Jeongyeon,” the trainee hissed. “That’s points off for her. Thanks for telling me, Jisoo.”

 

What could the little girl do? She nodded and took the gratitude as a compliment. It was one of the many moments she would look back on with great shame. One of the many reasons she would leave this industry behind. Companies manufactured groups without caring for their well-being, and their products often thought likewise wishing only to be a bestseller. Jihyo hated it, just as she hated her former self. She was a commodity even as a child, and seeing the unchanging wet eyes of that child now years later still bothered her. Those were unforgettable days of tears that could not be shed to wash guilt away.

 

While young Jihyo pondered over the morality of her conduct knowing not of their future ramifications, Nayeon went further away than ever before. She had run past the JYPE building, past the block of music headquarters, past the obsessive fans and buff security lurking outside. She cried in the street exposed and alone. Cried like she had never cried before, and harder than she feared she’d ever be able to cry again. Face drenched in salty moisture, nose and throat clogged with snot, she turned in a circle looking helplessly. What was she looking for?

 

She spotted her then from the distance. A savior with a bob. Expecting her to laugh at her, Jeongyeon ran to hug her instead. She didn’t care when Nayeon’s tears and snot spoiled the fancy leather jacket her older sister had bought her with her first paycheck. She didn’t care when strangers walked by judging them like a couple that had taken their fight public. She held onto Nayeon, one hand wrapped around her waist and the other on the back of her head. They stayed like this indefinitely long after Jeongyeon’s phone lit up with notification after notification. Angry texts and calls yelling at her to come back unless she wanted to be dropped. Jeongyeon who was fiercely independent cared for them not, preferring to care for Nayeon’s injuries. They hurt like her own.

 

At last, Nayeon spoke. “It’s over, Jeongyeon. I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to quit.”

 

Jeongyeon pulled her closer. It was a sad day for them both. Jeongyeon had also made up her mind. Despite what her family had to say, she couldn’t do it either. Not without Nayeon who had been with her since day one. One stubborn and strong youth, Jeongyeon did not voice this aloud. She would give Nayeon considerate words. “Let’s get you home, alright?”

 

Nayeon broke free from her embrace. “I don’t want to go back there!”

 

“Not the company.” Jeongyeon caught her hand, holding it like she had held Jihyo’s, only more devoted than doting this time around. “Let’s go back to your real home.”

 

Not another word was needed. Nayeon didn’t have to ask how much trouble Jeongyeon would be in for skipping. Not when she had her to herself. Hand in hand, they walked and walked to the train station. It was their usual commute. An hour-long ride where they would play games together to amuse each other. Jihyo had once said she was jealous of them, admired them for being brave enough to ride alone while she waited for her parents’ car. Nayeon couldn’t explain that there was no boredom nor fear when she was with Jeongyeon. She had an unnie reputation to maintain. But she couldn’t lie to herself forever. She needed her. She needed Jeongyeon, her only source of stability left.

 

“What do I do with myself now?” Nayeon said so low it was almost inarticulate. “All I’m into is singing and dancing, and photography and cute children. But now that I don’t want to be an idol anym–”

 

Her best friend could not stand more of her negativity. She cut her short joking, “You can be a pageant mom! People love shows about obsessive pageant moms!” Jeongyeon forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too contrived. She was known to be no fun, a no jam.

 

Nayeon snorted a laughed. She didn’t find it funny, but adored Jeongyeon enough to understand her effort. She gripped her friend’s hand a bit harder before letting go. “Thank you, Jeongyeon.”

 

Jeongyeon shook her shoulders belittling her own efforts. This wasn’t something she had to do. Nayeon had never asked anything of her. It just felt right being by her side, giving her love and support.

 

Nevertheless, Jeongyeon’s caring ways was met with a rewarding bear hug from her scrawny friend. “I love you, Jeongyeon!” she said so carefree and sweet the words flowed along with the wind caused by the docking train, nuzzling Jeongyeon with affection.

 

Jeongyeon shook Nayeon off in mock disgust, secretly enjoying the hug from the unnie that now tried to kiss her cheeks. Be it that Nayeon was slow or that she purposely left room for Jeongyeon to wiggle away, they laughed wholeheartedly, somewhat regretful that they were already nearing the silent interior of the train.

 

“I really mean it, Jeongyeon,” Nayeon emphasized again. “I really, really love you!”

 

“Unnie,” the words were muffled by people pushing past, going on with their busy lives as Nayeon and Jeongyeon stood still then as they are now. “Are you drunk?” Jeongyeon teased and leaped away. It was now her turn to run from the truth, dashing off into the commuting masses, knowing Nayeon could not catch up.

 

Nayeon gave chase anyways. “Ya! Am I drunk?! You couldn’t handle me if I was!”

 

***

 

“Are you drunk?” Jeongyeon’s slurred words echoed off of Momo’s hazy head, making little sense. Momo was a terrible drinker. The hardy alcohol of Canada had taken its toll on the lightweight.

 

A true drama fanatic, Momo had insisted on one final trip with her then roommate. “It’s where they shot Goblin! I have to see it with you before my visa expires and I have to leave Korea!” she had said to Jeongyeon over and over like a spell until it actually worked. Now, Momo had quite different words on her lips, stumbling through the cobblestone roads that lead to their fancy hotel. (They had both pitched in to afford it for a single night.) “Ahjussi, I love you!” Momo gushed in her cutest voice, imitating her favorite character from the show. She nearly toppled Jeongyeon over in her drunken stupor.

 

Jeongyeon was no better than her. Lucky for them both, Jeongyeon swung drunkenly in the opposite direction. Thus, they balanced each other out as they often did. The other bar hoppers around them cheered them on, laughing at their strange foreign presence. Jeongyeon, usually cautious and well put together, blushed and fanned herself. Was it the alcohol, or was she really flushed over Momo, again? Growing up, Jeongyeon had always hated being called ‘ _hyung_ ’, ‘ _oppa_ ’ or any of the other male pronouns and honorifics. She had gone as far as legally changing her boyish sounding real name to avoid such an issue. But on Momo’s lips, the word ‘ _ahjussi_ ’, her pet name for her, sounded so delicious.

 

And so, Jeongyeon kissed her, having always wondered what her lips would taste like each night they cuddled. They had cuddled nightly as any extremely close roommate pair would do to fight the cold, they had told themselves. It was always cold to Momo though, and Jeongyeon was always willing to help out a friend. A best friend. Did she still think of her only as a best friend while she kissed her, savoring the feeling of their embracing tongues? She didn’t know, and didn’t care because she was so intoxicated. With alcohol and with another mind-altering substance. One others would call ‘misguided love’.

 

There was wild cheering and wooing from the other bar goers and rowdy drunks passing by. It encouraged Jeongyeon to deepen her kiss. Momo tasted like beer. She should’ve expected that. But a minute more and there was more. The sweet aftertaste of Canadian pastries and Momo’s delectable natural scent swirled into one. Jeongyeon held her tighter, leaning her back on a brick wall. She lifted her chin, reaching new places with her kiss. 

 

“I love you, Jeongyeon!” she heard Momo say. Only, she didn’t hear the voice as Momo’s, remember it to be someone else’s instead. Their kiss ended there. Jeongyeon backed off, starting to toddle away by herself.

 

“Jeongyeon, wait!” Momo called after her. Not the fastest of runners, Momo could only wait for Jeongyeon to extend her hand back to hold child-like Momo’s hand. Choosing to wrap her arm around hers as oppose to holding hands, Momo leaned on her shoulder. “Let’s get married,” she repeated after her favorite character again. “I’m the Goblin’s bride!” She had said this to Jeongyeon before. It had seemed like a good idea to Momo at the time, considering it would be her ticket to stay in Korea and to stay with Jeongyeon. Too bad it was illegal in Korea, and sounded like a terrible idea to Jeongyeon.

 

But drunk beyond her wits, Jeongyeon gladly consented. Thrilled even. Drunkards hardly lied. They could be much more honest drunk than sober. “Sure! Let’s get married, you pabo! We can have pageant kids and everything, too!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Momo laughed. She then turned to ask the locals in broken English, “Excuse me, church where?”

 

***

 

“Excuse me,” one of the more refined ladies on Jihyo’s tour questioned the guide. She was middle-aged but looked great for her age with stylish yet simple clothes to match. Truly a beauty back in her youth.

 

“How can I help you?” Jihyo of some months ago asked the older Taiwanese tourist lady. She spoke to her in Mandarin Chinese. Having learned it as a child, she had retained some of it after all these years. How could she forget? She had been the top of her class, top of her school too, for a glorious couple months until Kim Dahyun transferred there. _Darn her,_ Jihyo cussed. She was not a fan of competition, but she had much to thank Dahyun for. Had it not been for the smart girl, Jihyo wouldn’t have pushed her studies in the humanities further and ended up memorizing historical facts and Chinese better than any math or science. It turned out it was a perfect prerequisite for becoming a tour guide to the affluent tourists from adjacent countries.

 

Knowing not of the tour guide’s internal turmoil, the lady spoke on. “You mentioned you that you were a trainee and that you’re now looking for a teaching job. If I help you get a job, would you look after my daughter, Tzuyu? I’d pay you. Handsomely,” Tzuyu heard her mom say in her voice instead of her own.

 

“Chou Tzuyu!” Jihyo shattered her nonsensical daydream. “Dreaming in class again?” Playing the role of a strict teacher, she tapped on Tzuyu’s desk with her PowerPoint clicker. “Even your seatmate Chaeyoung who missed the first week of class has been diligent lately. Are you really going to fall behind, class president?” she taunted to make a show out of it.

 

As the other students fell stiff, on their best behavior for their seemingly strict teacher, Jihyo passed by giving Tzuyu a soft squeeze on the shoulder. She was never strict with Tzuyu, only faking sternness in front of others.

 

“No, teacher.” Tzuyu, the student with the best posture, slumped down. Even when she was in the wrong, Jihyo was so gentle with her. How could she think of such ridiculous scenarios to incriminate her? She had let her insecurity run wild while Jihyo had trusted Tzuyu with hers.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you quit being an idol trainee?” Tzuyu had asked Jihyo once when she was showing her baby pictures. It was during another one of their chats after Tzuyu helped Jihyo home. They could speak most candidly in private, and both of them enjoyed that very much. On this occasion, Tzuyu wanted the full back story. She detested nothing more than assumptions and lies. Unlike the other students who whispered that Jihyo was the forever trainee who just wasn’t good enough and ended quitting, Tzuyu wanted to hear the truth of the matter from Jihyo herself.

 

Jihyo handed Tzuyu the shiny picture frame, momentarily not recognizing herself in the photograph. “I wasn’t myself,” she answered plainly. “I was skeptical of everyone, hating their success, even applauding their failure. It’s no way to live. Not how I envisioned myself.” Lost to her thoughts, a girl on the edge of the tracks at the end of town, Jihyo went on mindlessly. “As a female idol – well, at least when I wanted to be one – there was only so much to go for. We trained for years to be hated and judged for every single miniscule supposed misdemeanor. Then what? A couple years of success or misery, or both, and then we either try to marry a successful sponsor, or CEO, or celebrity. That’s if we don’t get swallowed alive by controversy and scandal first…”

 

Having understood little of Jihyo’s full intent, Tzuyu still found familiarity in those words. She had heard many variations of them. “Sorry. Sorry for asking.”

 

“No,” Jihyo retracted hastily. What was she doing saying such things to an innocent girl who wanted to join the entertainment industry? She had been hired to look after her and encourage her after all… “I shouldn’t babble like this. It’s probably nothing you want to hear anyways.”

 

Tzuyu shook her head. “No, it’s the truth. I appreciate people being honest with me.”

 

Jihyo cringed, renewing her sins of deceit. _The truth is_ , she wanted to say. But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep Tzuyu around.

 

***

 

“Truth is,” Chaeyoung admitted to Tzuyu on their way home, “I’ve been a shitty friend.” She apologized in earnest. She was finally at enough peace with herself not to fall completely into pieces, and stable enough to reflect on her misdoings. “And I don’t deserve to keep you around, so I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” It was a long overdue apology, but looking up and seeing herself in Tzuyu’s eyes she saw confusion, not resentment.

 

“Forget it,” Tzuyu patted her back. “We’re still friends!” she proudly said. She couldn’t believe she was hearing those words come from her own lips. How sweet they tasted indeed. It has Tzuyu’s favorite type of surprise, one of the few surprises she would tolerate. Tzuyu never cried over such matters, so she laughed full heartedly instead. She loved her few friends, showering them with her hard-earned full-on smiles that made the edges of her eyes crinkle and her voice jolly. On this occasion, she also gave her rarer skinship, bending down to lean on Chaeyoung. She nuzzled her shoulder, putting all her weight on her. The position was physically uncomfortable for both of them, but the most comfortable to their hearts.

 

“Chaeyoung,” _my beloved friend Chaeyoung-ie!_ “Want to go to the zoo this weekend?” A seemingly random request, it was where their friendship had started.

 

The slightly younger Chaeyoung had said the same thing as the present day Chaeyoung with the same laugh that showed her deep dimple. “What? Have you never been? Let’s go!”

 

Tzuyu had been new to Korea then, needing a tour guide to show her around. Chaeyoung would gladly fulfill that need. Tapping lightly on the glass, young Chaeyoung wanted to wow her new friend. “I can imitate that yawning lion! Wanna watch?” She didn’t wait for Tzuyu to solemnly nod yes. With her two hands by the side of her face, crunched up to imitate tiny paws, Chaeyoung roared in her deepest voice. She still sounded and looked like a toddler.

 

Not being able to help herself, Tzuyu kept laughing. She laughed pass the point of an aching stomach.

 

“What?” Chaeyoung hmphed. She hated people laughing at her like those snobby students had. She wasn’t just a cute little kid, she had sustenance too. Mina unnie had said so!

 

“You look like a baby cub!” Tzuyu snickered, nearly collapsing on the glass as if she was drunk beyond repair.

 

Chaeyoung flipped her long, thick hair that she was so fond of. Rather than getting mad, she laughed along. She liked that nickname. Then, noting the time for their night school, she told Tzuyu to hurry and run after her. “Tag! You’re it!” she made a game out of it, hoping the new foreign student would understand. Tzuyu, not yet fluent in Korean, still understood the universal rules of an age-old game. She bolted forward, giggling as she ran.

 

Running their way through the teeming metropolitan streets of Seoul, Chaeyoung tripped and chipped a tooth. Tzuyu had stopped to ask her if she was okay, panting and commending her speed. Chaeyoung just shrugged and kept going. She hadn’t mind even though she knew her parents would complain that they’d have to take her to the expensive dentist again. Tzuyu was someone who understood her. They shared the loner status (well, used to before they met each other), hated their parents’ interfering with their lives thinking they knew what was best, and like Sana and Jihyo, they had all the fun in the world together. Chaeyoung showed a goofy smile with her chipped tooth and now rather gummy look. Finishing their game at the afterhours tutoring institution, they barely made it before the gates closed. Slipping in right before the final bell, she collapsed on the ground with her friend and lied there laughing with Tzuyu, heart full of content. What would she do without her? she thought then as she did now.

 

Across from the two young best friends reminiscing, another young woman also stirred in her train seat excitedly. Momo held a business card close to her heart, not believing it to be true.

 

“Should I introduce you to Mina?” Jeongyeon had asked her when she caught her starring out the window with forlorn eyes. She had reminded Jeongyeon of Mina too much for her to not speak up, despite the unease that existed between her and her former roommate.

 

“Mina,” Momo had repeated the Japanese name fondly. “Who’s that?”

 

* * *

****Lots of flashbacks, I know. Life has a way of mirroring itself though, don’t you think? Let me know how you like the update and what you think so far!

I’ll probably update my Twice and Gfriend crossover fic, [_The Navillera Story Begins_](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1153347/the-navillera-story-begins-girlgroup-harem-originalcharacter-gfriend-twice), next since it’s been a while. I also recently updated my rated Mimo fic, [_Precious Foriegn Love_](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1136402/precious-foreign-love-mina-girlxgirl-momo-twice-mimo), and my [_harem fics_](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view_author_stories/367964/L) that now include Twice, just fyi if you want to try reading them ^^ I’ll also update other stories soon, too! Until next time~

 

**_Spoilers from the next chapter,_ Serendipity _, in no particular order:_**

“Can you teach me how to do these spins without getting dizzy?” she asked Mina for help.

She looked at her with a thudding heart and fear. Fear because she knew what her heart wanted with certainty for once.

"I think you're very brave and strong for staying after what happened."

“I came for the books I left behind.”

“Wait! It’s raining pretty heavily… You should stay.”

Their lips met again, for the first time in a long time.


	8. The Final Rains of Summer

 

The speedy train seemed to stall with Tzuyu once again sitting next to Sana. Sana adored her so, smiling so crisply to her that the air of tension caused by forced acquaintanceship cracked a tad. Though not nearly enough. Like a one-sided crush, Sana had all the love for Tzuyu and no true words to prove it. What could she say to the girl she could find no common interests with? She respected Jihyo all the more for breaking through to Tzuyu.

 

Nevertheless, Sana laughed away with a tilted head, holding back her stomach. It didn't matter what Tzuyu said, Sana loved it. She had no other choice. Dahyun was watching a few seats down. She had her head in some book, but Sana knew. Having been her teacher for so long, and her admirer for longer, she could inspect Dahyun motion for motion. An analyst dissecting one word of a large text at a time until they formed a larger picture. From the way Dahyun's nose crinkled and her eyebrows tensed, Sana knew she was listening in. It was Sana's petty satisfaction to get any response from her, even if it was jealousy. Especially if it was jealousy. Wounded, she hurt back both intentionally and not.

 

Being keener on interaction than actual words, Tzuyu sensed an underlying distress to the bubbly Sana. However, her teacher's roommate still presented her with a genuine laugh. Tzuyu thought then that she knew the type of person Sana was. One that would laugh through her tears, one that would make whimsical music out of those tears instead of showing how they strained and stained her. Sana's longing in juxtaposition to her amicability made her the protagonist of her own musical. Tzuyu pictured Sana as the main lead of the musical movie Once that Jihyo had shown in class. Her conversations with Tzuyu were simple yet candid, and her passions obvious. She was a tragic everyday hero without intending to be one. Unbeknownst to Tzuyu, the parallels she drew from simple observation were deeper than imaginable. Just like the sad male lead, Sana would love unendingly for a person she should not love. And her lover would love her back. She would love her while not openly admitting to it, being quieted by circumstance. It would be so after their parting as well. Unspoken mutual love that would put a smile on Sana's gentle lips for a time, and tears in her heart for longer.

 

Tzuyu, having never experienced such a sweltering love that would cause her to be inflamed to the point of insomnia long after the affair had ended, oddly grew fond of Sana's loving antics. "Did I tell you about that one time..?" Sana would pose as a transition into a new conversation each time she could no longer rant about one topic and had to resort to another. Tzuyu would shake her head with a smile and wait for Sana to fill her in on yet another one of her misadventures. It was dubious that Tzuyu would have known anything about Sana beforehand, but Sana would change that. She always did. She could never be satisfied until the people she liked knew every intimate detail about her. "And that's how I got the scar on my hand from going out to eat with my sister," she concluded after a vivid narration.

 

Inadept to such social people, Tzuyu was known to struggle with giving an appropriate timely response. But with Sana, her emotions now poured out steadily like a controlled aqueduct, natural enough yet still incremental. She grinned a bit more each time, wondering how foolish she may seem to Sana. She supposed she was doing alright considering how Sana soon went on with another personal story. Tzuyu leaned in to listen to this telling. Her dimples showed in the slightest. If Chaeyoung was there, she thought out of the blue, she would've commented on them. Perhaps put her small fingers in them, liking how shallow and symmetrical they were compared to her one deep dimple.

 

As Tzuyu's mind slowly started to drift to another train of thoughts entirely, on her part, Sana did the same. Her eyes stopped a second too long on Dahyun, and she felt a pang. The tension of a drawn bow sometime aimed at Dahyun, other times aimed at Sana herself. And then she remembered. The raging rain she could faintly hear from the safe inside of the steel train had washed over her. It reminded her of another time. Sana still had one thing keeping her tied to Dahyun - the stories they shared. And Sana intended to collect that debt, one book at a time.

 

***

 

A book in hand, Chaeyoung sprawled out on her bed. Yet another rainy night, hopefully the last of them, where she had to occupy herself. Her cozy casual nightwear and book helped her forget her stress for a time.  Instead of reading her favorites self-help book on how to add impact to your words or soften them as necessary, she flipped through a simple poetry book. The tired girl tussled her hair about, heaving a small yet deep sigh. She shouldn't have lent her book to her fast friend in her book club, she regretted. More than that, she shouldn't have joint the local book club at all. It was full of housewives and jobless romantics anyways, and Chaeyoung fitted into neither categories being the only student there. Despite her complaints, she couldn't quit now that she was the unexpected starling maknae. She liked the attention and respect from the older women, but not their cheesy book choices. Filling the void with all forms of art was something Chaeyoung found great joy in. Being assigned popular and overrated books, she did not.

 

Chaeyoung skimmed through the small book of predictable and uncomplicated poetry with only ounces of interest. Why were the most popular things always so trite and basic? Chaeyoung craved undiscovered art, the underappreciated masterpieces. The street art fated to fade away, the foreign literature whose translations were scarce, even the significantly lesser known fan fictions that riveted readers without ever gaining a large following. She would tell the book club ladies just that. When they ask her which poem was her favorite she would say, "I'd say 'To be soft is to be powerful' if I had to pick one, but how contrived is that? I could've written it myself, about myself." Chaeyoung put her book down and laughed to herself imagining how the ahjummas would gasp at her straightforwardness and the unnie she had befriended, Nayeon, would open her eyes wide with admiration.

 

Upon her merry thought, another source of her merriment made her way over to her. “What’s so funny?” Tzuyu asked her, flopping down on her. Chou Tzuyu, the girl who didn’t cry when her parents said bye to her when dropping her off in a different country, the girl who didn’t cry when the class watched the saddest of sad musical movies, the girl who could probably make a deal with the Devil while calling him a wuss, was holding Chaeyoung ever so softly. Friendship was like this. The toughest of people became the softest, the most vulnerable. To have regained a friend she thought had left her made Tzuyu sappier than all the maple trees Jeongyeon and Momo had leaned on as they kissed drunk. Tzuyu might as well be drunk, the fussy warmth of her skinship with Chaeyoung rouged her face and altered her cold demeanor. “What are you up to?” Tzuyu nudged her short friend.

 

“Thinking of you,” Chaeyoung answered with a straight face, waiting for Tzuyu’s mind to buffer, then laughing away at her flushed squeals. Chaeyoung would give her a way out. They were both too shy for such straightforward sentimental gushes, unlike Tzuyu’s new friend Sana. One thing that Chaeyoung did have in common with Sana was the ability to steer a conversation to another direction when it pleased her. “Tzuyu, want to do some camping?” she suggested, already holding up the bag of dried potatoes her grandmother had sent her.

 

Tzuyu sat up, face contorted with confusion. “How? It’s raining so badly outside, and it’s a school night.”

 

“Who said we have to go out?” Chaeyoung answered with a deep smile and her twice as deep dimple showing. She tossed Tzuyu the dried snacks and grabbed a mosquito replant light from her nightstand. Turning it on, she said, “We even have a fire right here.”

 

A voiceless laugh came from Tzuyu. Unable to resist, she stuck her finger in Chaeyoung’s deep-set dimple for the first time. She laughed satisfyingly like a kid high on candy as Chaeyoung pouted but sat still so she could wiggle her finger about in her dimple. “I guess you’re right,” Tzuyu agreed merely with her same-age friend. “It’s the perfect weather for indoor camping.”

 

Chaeyoung jumped out of her bed, looking for any long object to serve as support for the blanket tent she wanted to build. “You’re right,” she agreed with Tzuyu, throwing her objects that could be useful for their campout. Mellow seconds ago, she now ignited with a flush of ideas and optimism. She prided herself a dreamy-eyed idealist like Dahyun, enraptured by her own creativity and artistry.

 

“Ouch!” she heard Tzuyu complain when a flashlight hit her a bit too hard. Chaeyoung ran over, apologizing and blowing on a non-existent wound. Tzuyu gave her a playful push.

 

As Chaeyoung’s long hair extensions fell over Tzuyu, she pulled back. “How is it?” she asked with no context, knowing Tzuyu would understand. “I don’t know if it’s better long or short. But I regretted it being so short.”

 

Tzuyu shrugged, hugging Chaeyoung briefly, resting her head on hers. She repeated words she had heard somewhere: “I like you both ways.” Then she added words of her own, “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy.”

 

Chaeyoung felt it then, looking into Tzuyu’s glistening eyes and rare unabashed true joy. The flutters of an unruly heart sighting it’s new interest. She looked away with haste. As much as one could choose to be happy, Chaeyoung chose not to love. At least not like that. Tzuyu was a great friend. Chaeyoung would be oh so, so silly to repeat a mistake. Nevertheless, she wanted her company and her platonic yet deep affection. “Don’t go to sleep early as usual tonight,” she asked of Tzuyu, finding it in herself to see her as a great friend once more. “Stay up and tell ghost stories with me,” she proposed, turning on a flashlight under her chin.

 

Tzuyu responded by grabbing the bug replant light and holding it adjacent to her face, opening her eyes scarily wide and stretching her face to be like _The Scream_. “Am I scary?” she said in a strange voice that set Chaeyoung into fits of laughter.

 

“Oh,” Chaeyoung agreed. “The scariest.”

 

***

 

It’s not that scary to talk to someone, Momo told herself without believing it. The business card had led her here, to the dance studio owned by the Myouis. It was her new company yet never had she stepped foot in it this late at night, until today. The thunder outside scared her as much as fast trains and rollercoasters, but not nearly as much trying to talk to Mina did.

 

“It’s almost closing time,” Mina reminded her. The former dancer, one of the former famed dancer of the Korean-based Japanese company found the role of a receptionist to be ill-fitting for her. Some time ago, she had pestered Chaeyoung and her other to stay late into the night with her. The woman of little words had enjoyed practicing with others, learning from her seniors, and teaching the younger girls. And then, it had happened. The event that turned her from a dancer wanting dance partners to a woman who had given up on dance and so desperately needed company. A woman afraid to be alone, hating it so much that she clung onto her fellow dancers and former teachers. She had gone as far as asking Jeongyeon to come pick her up from work for months on end, crying on her shoulder when she couldn’t take it. The switch from being a participant to an observer hurt her so, yet going from always having _her_ by her side to losing her made her lose herself all the more.

 

Mina sat on the train everyday waiting for the woman who had vanished from her life, stayed at the studio that was no longer hers late at night hoping the woman would find her way back. But she never did. It was only Jeongyeon and occasionally Chaeyoung to came to her in the darkest of nights, ignoring the bad weather and an equally weathered Mina. It was the end of summer and its humid rains that Mina last cried on Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Don’t come anymore, Jeongyeon,” she murmured to her in the empty building, empty of sound and joy. “She’s not coming back.” Tears had fallen without her acknowledgment. Jeongyeon had ran behind the reception desk upon this sad sight. In her wet waterproof sport jacket and short boyish hair, she grabbed onto Mina, recalling the previous night when she had held her the same way in the shower. It was then that Chaeyoung had looked through the glass, assuming Mina was crying into the arms of some man and left. But that was all a story for another time. Right now, it was the tale of Mina and Momo.

 

“I–” Momo swallowed with trepidation. Her fearful eyes blinked rapidly, terrified of Mina. A slim waning woman who could not do any harm to a single ant. It was irrational, but then again, so was all infatuation. “I don’t want to leave before I perfect this,” she found courage to say, then spun sloppily, avoiding Mina’s eyes. Her speed made her head wobble, her landing faulty. “Can you teach me how to do these spins without getting dizzy?” she asked Mina for help.

 

Long forgoing dance, Mina’s years as a ballerina proved unforgettable. She softened, being reminded of someone in particular whenever she saw Momo. “The trick is to spot something. Lock onto that object and focus on it whenever you make a spin. It alleviates the dizziness caused by perpetual motion.”

 

“Eh?” she heard Momo utter in true Japanese fashion.

 

Mina’s upturned lips gave way to a quick demonstration. She used Momo’s face as her stationary object, gazing at her each time she spun around. Her graceful bodyline swept across the room, adding sunshine to the dim room, fighting away the mood caused by the torrential rain. Many spins later, she stopped and saw an awed Momo, as pink as a peach and perhaps softer than a ripe one. “Sorry,” Mina apologized feeling embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to show off. It’s been a while since I’ve danced, too. So it probably–”

 

“It was amazing!” Momo gave her a thumbs up, wowing verballing, stopping short of applauding Mina. She had known the Myoui’s to be the best of the best, but to see was vastly different than to hear. One could hear a loud train and be startled, yet it was seeing it’s tremendous size and specular that mesmerized a person the most. Momo had taken Mina for a prickly flower. Now she viewed her as a stream usually flowing steadily and without fever all the while capable of bursting thorough, morphing into an unstoppable waterfall of admirable natural force. She wanted to compliment Mina’s strength. Tell her that not only where her smooth motions forceful, her will was also strong for staying after the incident that rocked the dance world. She wanted to praise her for her relentlessness. Had it been her going through these rough times, she would have left for Japan long ago.

 

Warm intentions and affections or not, these words that Momo had for Mina would stay lodged in her throat for the time being. Jeongyeon had come in with an umbrella for two. “Are you keeping Mina here after hours?” she chastised Momo. Her intention was clear. “Mina, let’s get going before the storm gets worst.” She was here to rob Momo of a potential love after having introduced her to it. It wouldn’t be the first. Her and Jeongyeon had been through a messy relationship before. A night enacting the equivalent of _The Hangover_ had caused them both a headache that could still be felt. Momo had found her numbing medication in furthering her dance pursuits. Jeongyeon had found hers in Mina, and Momo would resent her for it. Why would she introduce them to each other, only to separate them? She had already gotten attached without meaning to. A fan of the Myouis, she was now a fan of Mina. But Jeongyeon was her fan long before her.

 

“Mina, let’s go,” Jeongyeon led her roommate by the hand, already putting the umbrella over them although they were still indoors. There was a storm inside Mina that Jeongyeon knew best. “Momo, can you close up?” she asked her, tossing Mina’s keys to Momo.

 

Mina’s eyes went from Jeongyeon to Momo. The reason for their tenseness eluding her. “Is that alright?”

 

“It’s fine. You can leave if it’s easier for you this way,” Momo said to Mina while looking at Jeongyeon. Familiar words for a familiar friend. “I’ll be back here tomorrow night anyways. I can return you your keys and you can keep helping me.” She smiled.

 

Mina smiled back, liking the offer of exchange. She had sworn off dance because of the memories it solicited from her vaulted mind. Momo just happened to have the lock combination. She could help her create new memories while letting go of the old. Maybe this was what Mina needed – someone who knew nothing of her past and therefore could not incidentally remind her of it.

 

But Mina did need reminding. “Let’s go,” Jeongyeon repeated to Mina a bit sterner this time. “The rain,” she explained simply to Mina with her foot planted deep on the dance floor. And so, they left with Jeongyeon’s arm around Mina.

 

Outside, it poured and poured, rusting trains and making it impossible to travel safely alone. Mina had always hated being a single rider. With Jeongyeon by her side, she felt at ease even as she was pelleted. Then, the waterproof jacket that had been wrapped around her before, found its way around her again.

 

“You okay?”

 

Mina nodded. “You don’t have to come get me anymore. I’m not that weak. I can make it home by myself now.” She felt bad. Guilty of needing Jeongyeon, of wanting her attention after she had told her not to come. Her joy at seeing her walk in was cut short by the realization that it was an undeserving happiness. She owed Jeongyeon so much.

 

Jeongyeon wrapped around her tighter. Out of hands to fix Mina’s hair, she blew it gently out of her face for her. “I know you’re not weak. You’re really strong, and sometimes you just need someone to remind you.” Thinking again of her giving nature when it came to Mina, and even more so to Nayeon, she grinned explaining, “I don’t do all of this because I think you need me to, but because I want to.” _Because I care too much._

 

Fully convinced, Mina temporarily disregarded her insecurities. She didn’t need a strong man in her life like Chaeyoung had mistakenly accused her of. There was something else she did need. Someone she wanted on rainy nights more than a “welcome home” or a cup of hot chocolate. She looked at Jeongyeon with a thudding heart and fear. Fear because she knew what her heart wanted with certainty for once – someone that was already someone else’s.

 

***

 

Sana rummaged through Dahyun’s room feeling like an intruder although Dahyun had invited her in. The room that once felt like her own felt like someone else’s. Someone she no longer had a right to interacting with. “I came for the books I left behind,” Sana had said to get in. _Slowly,_ she told herself. The longer she took to find the books, the longer she could stay. But what was the use? She would still have to leave.

 

“They’re not there,” Dahyun told her, seeing her struggle from behind and having enough. “I moved them to my nightstand.” She handed the books over ever so slowly.

 

Earlier today, she had met with her brother who was currently dutifully serving his two years in the military. She had told him, her closest confidant in her entire extended family, that she had let her tutor go. “Good,” he had said. “Mom and dad never liked her much anyways. You know what they always say about the Japanese, and the war. Still not too late to change your interests, you know.” She did. But like her brother who had given up a scholarly life for his calling in the armed forces, she had found the force that moved her most.

 

“Well,” Sana let the words slip from her, tensing at their passing, “I guess I should go now.”

 

Dahyun gripped her by the sleeve. “Wait!” She found herself panting because of a thudding heart. “It’s raining pretty heavily.” She bit her lips, going no further until Sana tilted her head and implored her with those doll-like eyes. “You should stay.” Dahyun and loved and lost, but not all was lost. One last night of indulgence wouldn’t hurt. Recovering addicts needed therapy and nicotine patches. This single night would serve as Dahyun’s remedy. Her Sana remedy by exposing herself to more Sana. It was preposterous. They both knew it, and played along.

 

Hand in hand, they came up to Dahyun’s mom like best friends in grade school asking to have a sleepover. “The spare bedroom is a bit dusty but–” the clueless mother tried to say.

 

“No!” Dahyun cut in, defying her. “Sana unnie is sensitive to fine dust. She could sleep with me.”

 

Sana had no objections to that. That night, she felt Dahyun’s light hair fall over her and inhaled. It could be the last time, but it wouldn’t be the first. At the beginning of the summer storms she had slept over once before. The beginning of the season had their hearts stirring with newness. To think then that the end of this same season would mark the relationship’s end was impossible. Dahyun was just that – the impossible girl. An unforgettable acquaintance to the Doctor, the rain to the clouds, the writing to a page wanting to be filled with lines of love, Dahyun had been everything to Sana without ever intending to. Sana hated realizing now, after she had left her, after she had purposely try to ignite her jealousy, after she had left the train with Tzuyu instead of her.

 

Dahyun did everything lightly. She spoke lightly, forgave lightly, fell asleep lightly, and held onto Sana in her sleep lightly. There was something else as well. Something Sana knew Dahyun probably did not remember. Dahyun kissed lightly as well. It had been brief. An accidental gliding of the lips as the slept side by side. Sana, anxious at heart was not asleep and remembered it all while Dahyun had her eyes close, breathing slowly. Sana never told her, how could she tell her the moment she realized her love for her when they had never confessed to each other?

 

Now feeling daring, knowing she had nothing more to lose, Sana leaned in to soft, soft Dahyun. Their lips met again, for the first time in a long time. A peck that would have lasted only a split second if Dahyun had not opened her lips. And her eyes.

 

“Unnie,” she called out her gently.

 

Sana pulled back frightfully. “You’re awake.”

 

“I was last time, too.”

 

* * *

*******insert all the shock emojis here* lol.** **Will edit later. Let me know what you think so far!**

**There will be some Jitzu, 2na, Namo and maybe more next chapter ^^**

  
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**_Stories to be updated next:_ Twice stories such as [ _Love and Magic_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11271852/chapters/25207182)** **, my harem fics, and maybe an older SNSD story!**

 


	9. Contrasting Spontaneity

Dahyun’s hair clung to the side of her face like when they first met. Her eyes dewy from lack of sleep still paradoxically shimmered like a flower moist with twilight’s essence. Pensiveness looked oddly comfortable on her, a girl of perplexities. First love had the crowning title of being her most confusing experience. She had hesitated plenty before her hands became their own agent, plucking a single strand of Sana’s hair and whisking it away from her forehead. This was the moment she had so long denied herself.

 

As Sana froze in multiplied confusion by the young woman’s brashness, Dahyun felt a smile slowly spreading across her face, enveloping her whole being in a calm joy. There was fear and its best friend adrenaline hand in hand. Running side by side, they brought Dahyun’s lips to a gentle rest on Sana’s forehead. Then the tip of her nose, followed by both sides of her cheeks.

 

Sana flushed under her, being discovered anew. She was young again. Loving for the first time again. Trusting wholeheartedly before her past caught up at KTX speed. Her one-sided loves of the past rattled her body that rested against Dahyun’s like two trains passing in close proximity, shuttering under each other’s influence. She pulled the emergency brake gently, hand sliding into Dahyun’s. She wanted her words. Words worth millions. “Dahyun, is the moon beautiful tonight?” she challenged her to answer, pleading for the impossible.

 

Dahyun faltered, cracking her thin clay mask of confidence. Her eyes no longer wet with sleep’s torridness, but with fearful admission. Sana’s hand was so soft in hers. A perfectly casted mold to shield her raw self. So soft yet powerful, luminescent yet lulling. She excited her heart as much as she calmed it. And so, Dahyun let it out – her words of confession. “Always. You’re always beautiful.” She would have said it. She would have said ‘I love you,’ straight out. Only, Sana’s lips were already on hers, absorbing each tender word.

 

And they kissed the night away, lighting up the room with the moon’s shimmering purity. Simple kisses then deep ones that meant so much more than their face value. They were feeling like sinners at this slight form of skinship, feeling like awakened sleepers on the last stop realizing they were home the whole time if they were to only open their eyes. Each time they looked in the dark, light shined back at them. One doesn’t need to love to the moon and back if they were in love with the moon to begin with. So they laid there. Darkness and light intermingling. A shy Ponyo on the cliffs jumping overboard for her love and a misguided Genji living a life filled with love’s tragedies until the right person came along, even if it was just for the time being.

 

***

 

It would be okay just for now, Nayeon told herself looking in the mirror and scrutinizing her lips. No, it didn’t seem right. “Is this tint okay, or should I use this one instead? What about my hair? Bangs or no bangs?” she asked Momo the time immortal questions.

 

Momo shrugged, slumping down on her bed, watching her roommate get ready for the night from afar. Nayeon would be exhausted from social functions not because of her lack of sleep, rather from the people there. Yet, here she was again asking Momo the age-old questions. “You look fine, unnie. I like you both ways.”

 

The restroom mirror showed a prideful smirking Nayeon. She swung her head back, fine hair gracing the wind and catching volume. “You always say that,” she accused her flatterer. Going back to beautifying herself, she twisted up a violet lipstick followed by a scarlet one. She held one in each hand, appraising them and looking for the best shade like a traveler searching for the best route to take when transferring between subway lines.

 

Sitting up on the awfully comfortable bed, Momo gave her reasoning in her own defense. “You always ask the same things. But you really do look fine either way.”

 

Nayeon gave a small chic laugh. “This is a teacher meet up though, and I’m not even a teacher yet. I have to dress to impress, but be professional at the same time.” She slumped in her spot, oozing down in true slime fashion. She felt like she could stick down to the floor and never get up like Momo in bed except during eating or exercising time. “I think it was my cartilage piercings that did me in last time,” she scolded herself, setting her lipsticks down irritably. “They probably weren’t discreet enough.” She groaned and sighed forgetting all about her makeup. “I probably looked like a junkie to them and that’s why I never got a call back from the school.”

 

Heavy footsteps shuffled to bed beside Momo. A single thought could break the porcelain woman who mascaraed as a fine cut stone with a biting edge. Momo took her down to her level on the mattress, taking her hand in hers. The term ‘bed of lies’ was foreign to them. In their apartment, there were insecurities and jealousies but never lies. Momo would give Nayeon her honest word again and again, enough times until she believed her. “They’re missing out. You’re pretty awesome.”

 

Nayeon rolled her eyes, smiling. Articles of makeup still in hand, she slithered around Momo, holding her briefly before letting go. “I should finish getting ready then! Got to wow them with my beauty and my smarts.”

 

Momo covered her mouth and laughed, rolling in the slightest between her many pillows. “I never said anything about brains.” She heard Nayeon’s powder case being clasped shut and knew she was in for it this time. She squealed before the first pillow came down on her. They both cracked up. Their playfight dispersing their other worries into fumes.

 

However, the undercurrent remained. Face to face so close to each other, memories of someone they were both close to were aroused. There was a time when Momo would be doing this with Jeongyeon instead, and there were moments Nayeon wished her roommate was Jeongyeon instead. And here they were living together harmoniously despite it all even with the mini invisibly boundaries they set up for each other. Their reservations were lines drawn in sand, fading and blowing away with each friendly tussle and well-intended scuffle. If Dahyun wore her thoughts like pained poetry dripping in the ink of emotion, Nayeon showed hers off like the straightforward self-help books and popular fiction novels she favorited.

 

Nayeon couldn’t recall lying to Momo. She couldn’t. “Momo, you’re so beautiful,” she spoke truthfully, enviously, lovingly. Momo didn’t need to reply. These were words that came from Nayeon almost as often as her questions over her appearance. She loved Momo, loved her like the best of friends. Still, there was Jeongyeon in the equation. Sure Nayeon had questions she wanted to ask. But she couldn’t. She stood behind a forever locked door knowing she could easily obtain the lock yet being too frightened to ever try to pry it open. Nayeon looked on at Momo’s gleaming face and thought of another. Behind Momo stood a picture of her and Jeongyeon laughing away in a photo booth in Canada, maple leaves drawn all over the borders. They would’ve made a lovely looking couple, Nayeon thought with possessiveness’s scorn. What exactly happened between Momo and Jeongyeon that caused their rift? She wanted to know, and she didn’t. Wanted to ask and couldn’t.

 

Momo knew. She was no fool. It was easier this way though. Blurred lines allowed for multiple interpretations. Straight out stating their feelings and intensions could only raise tensions, and Momo had been through that before. “You’re really going to move out?” Momo had implored Jeongyeon, grasping her strong hand that had always led and protected hers. Was she truly leaving her for good? She had desperately internally pleaded no, keeping only the impression of a steady carefree roomie. 

 

“I should,” Jeongyeon said in place of ‘I need to.’ “To be honest,” she hesitated hurting her friend and let it out to relieve herself, “it’s weird.” Her hand dropped from Momo’s. “Besides, I already found my replacement. Nayeon needs a roommate.”

 

With this passing reminder Momo sped Nayeon along. “Hurry and leave so you can come back sooner.”

 

Nayeon, having once feared that Momo disliked her, stood holding the door, cheering up at the sight of her. She resented her not. “Why? Are you going to miss me that much?” 

 

Momo scrunched up her face, giving Nayeon a goofy looked that softened into an earnest smile. “That’s right. I need you.” It was a simply need, and it wasn’t.

 

****

 

At a mere 153 centimeters in height, Chaeyoung awakened her seniors’ protective instincts. But she didn’t need any protection. She didn’t need anyone. Chaeyoung tilted back and forth on the platform in a thin leather jacket that was purely for aesthetics and the shortest plain white shorts. She tittered to herself a bit thinking back to the fun night she had with her roommate, acting their age. Acting like children. But they weren’t just children, they were practically young adults.

 

Tzuyu had said something to her yesterday night. It was a simple sentence. But one Chaeyoung would keep to herself for Tzuyu’s sake. But it had gotten her thinking. Not everything was what it seemed. Life was not a straight track, it curbed and tangled and mixed and mingled. Acceptance of upsets and keeping an open mind was the secret code to opening up new tracks.

 

Chaeyoung never cared much for getting on at the right carriage anyways. She ignored the markings on the platform caring not for the convenience of being by the closest exit. Instead, she hopped on wherever there was a spot. In opposition to her, Mina always planned her trips meticulously. Hating being lost or venturing out without a purpose, she would map her route multiple times before departing from her house. She got on the exact carriage the map told her to and timed her transfers to a tee. 

 

That day, Mina boarded the green line two train at exactly 2:45pm sharp as planned for a meeting. Chaeyoung, without meaning to, got on two stops later. On a train with too many passenger cars to count while it was moving at rapid speed, they managed to be on the same one, meeting accidentally on purpose. Mina was on a quest to make a new friend. Chaeyoung’s quest was to meet an old one. And both did just that, only with a different person than originally intended. 

 

Impulsive by nature, Chaeyoung took the handle besides Mina’s and clutched on tight. Not wavering as people trampled past, pushing and shoving to get in and out. Mina avoided her eyes, only nodding slightly in acknowledgment of her presence.

 

How long had it been since they last talked? Chaeyoung couldn’t count the days. She was not meticulous, but she knew it was too long. A day longer and perhaps they would be strangers. Mina on the other hand thought the same, only, she knew the exact number of days and hours. Twenty-four and five hours. Too many days and hours too long to feel hopeless to. Too many days and nights of missing a friendship, but did Chaeyoung feel the same?

 

It was awkward. Oh so awkward for Chaeyoung to pry her stubborn mouth open. When she did, her mouth felt parched and heavy. She was voiceless at first. It was painstaking finding the exact words for an exact woman. Love was a funny thing. Perhaps it never truly leaves. It hides itself as pain, hate, sadness, remorse, and finally blissful memories of the golden days. Mina would compare an ill-fated love to a clock running backwards, never meant to meet up with its intended purpose as much as it longed to. But that was the romantic in her. Such analogies were rubbish if you asked Chaeyoung. There was action and inaction and timing was but a human concept. 

 

Chaeyoung had been terrible. She acknowledged this much. Yet Tzuyu had found it in her to forgive her silly roommate, finding the compassion to call her a friend again. Why couldn’t Chaeyoung do the same? Love shouldn’t have to be shameful, Chaeyoung firmly believed. She had even blogged about it before. If she were to live up to her ideals, she should get over her own pride and embarrassment. Unlike her, Mina had done nothing wrong. Chaeyoung was in the wrong for shutting her out, and that deserved an apology. With that realization came the dreaded words. Words Chaeyoung least liked saying. “I’m sorry,” she said just loudly enough for Mina to make out. “None of it is your fault.” She gave Mina no chance to interject, fearing any response from her, wanting to get her point across before she would potentially combust from the tension building inside her like an overworked engine. “Let’s try to be friends still if you’d be up for it. If you’d forgive me.”

 

Mina’s body leaned forward with the train’s breaking. She had little time to react. She would hug Chaeyoung if there was room, if hugging was a thing for Chaeyoung. Neither were possible, so she settled for upturned lips and a hand on Chaeyoung’s extensions instead. “Thank you, Chaeyoungie.” She wanted to give her the world in that second, and a second was all she had. “I have to go, it’s my stop.” She gave her free hand a squeeze and ran past, pressing past others to get off in time. While there were tons of people in front of her, Mina’s mind stayed behind. Not attentive for a change. It was back with Chaeyoung, relishing that one second. 

 

Stopping for a moment in a corner to shoot Chaeyoung a quick text, she knew full well it would put her behind schedule. She didn’t mind this time. There were many things in life worth waiting for, but when one wishes for a present, it’s not the present itself that is presented but the opportunity to receive it that manifests instead. And so, Mina ceased the day, texting Chaeyoung meaningful messages over and over. Deleting them over and over until she settled on one that was simple yet sounded just right: Thank you for this chance. You mean a lot to me. 

 

***

 

It meant a lot to her dad. She knew it did. What did she care if she met this girl or not? She was always doing favors for one family member or another. She cared not for connections in the medical world, about her father’s extended networking disguised as a plan for his daughter to make more friends. The daughter of an important doctor in the main branch of her family’s hospital conglomeration. A boring stuck-up wallflower, she guessed. There was someone else she’d much rather see. Someone who’s smile could stop any train in its track. Speaking of which, shouldn’t this woman have gotten off of the train by now? For someone so high up, she sure wasn’t good at being punctual.

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Mina came panting, bowing incessantly in apology. “You’re Dr. Hirai’s daughter, right? Hirai Momo?”

 

There was a giddy laughter as Mina was gestured to sit down next to her at the station’s high-end coffee shop. “I’m her sister, Sana. Something came up so Momo couldn’t come, but she’s been meaning to meet you.” The answer came with an air of jubilance. Sana graced her new companion with a dreamy smiley and matching astral eyes. Mina had the look of a pained beauty and Sana a cherisher of beauty. It was too bad she had other priorities now. 

 

Mina sat down with mild confusion, though she easily accepted the situation nevertheless. Like the partially eaten cookies on Sana’s plate, Mina felt like a crummy mess. She was all over the place with her emotions, riding on the trains between elation and confusion, hopping endlessly between them, unable to settle on a single course. It was very unlike her. Usually, only Jeongyeon could steer her off course. (Well, when she wasn’t engrossed with being Nayeon’s right hand woman.) Yet here she was. Mina felt spontaneous. A new squirmy penguin-like Mina that replaced the dreary black swan Mina.

 

Pivotal moments in life could boil down to being at the right place at the right time. Mina found herself wanting to be in and out of this place, dashing her way back to tell Jeongyeon the good news. Back to her phone, anxious to see Chaeyoung’s reply. Chaeyoung still wanted to talk to her. It would be difficult and hard. It would also be great. Mina smiled bright for Chaeyoung by smiling for Sana. The quicker she was done talking to Sana the sooner she could go on with her life and its latest excitement. “So,” Mina began to say, unsure how to initiate talk with a woman too bubbly for her. Too animated and perky for her taste. Intimidatingly friendly and outgoing.

 

Then came a person to intimidate them both. “Oh, you’re here?” a tall fine woman in sunglasses despite being in doors approached them. Her skin was fair with a healthy glow, like the moon followed her day and night. Her face angular and deceptively stern looking, her immense eyes matching her sister’s perfectly. She had the silhouette and air of a worshiped figure. A body of admiration and a body of lies. One that both Sana and Mina knew well in different manners.

 

“Seongyeon unnie,” Mina and Sana said in unison with polar opposite intonations. Mina’s of surprised amusement. Sana’s of frozen apprehension.

 

 

* * *

** Sorry it's been a while since my last update. I've just settled down in Seoul, and I'm having a blast here! I ran into some celebrites and people who know people, etc. etc. It's all been amazing. And I might actually see Twice live for the first time at the end of the month!!! ^^ **

** Anyways...I feel kind of weird writing again after a while. There are so many topics and twists and turns I want to explore in this story. Let me know what you think :3 **

** I feel like Saida is such a sweet pure couple but something has to happen to them to test their relationship lol. And I’m such a multiship shipper that idk what’s going to happen to everyone… XD **

 

**_Stories to be updated next:_ Twice stories such as [ _Love and Magic_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11271852/chapters/25207182)** **, my harem fics, and maybe an older SNSD story!**


	10. Once Departed

She dazzled on air and even more so in real life. Her charisma bounced off of her, reflecting in the shades she often wore in the absence of sunlight. Her name was Yoo Seungyeon, a name many girls loved to say and more to whisper. She passed by Sana and Mina giving a simple swirl of her hands. A tiny swivel that stirred hearts. Two, to be precise. And with that she was gone. A sudden short-lived cameo with sudden long-term repercussions. 

 

Her departure left a mellow silence that a mellower girl like Mina struggled to fill, asking a question before considering its potential discourteousness. “You know Seungyeon unnie?”

 

Sana shook her head graciously, color returning to her paled face. “Just someone I thought I knew. But it was just a passing stranger.”

 

“Ah,” Mina excused herself with a snippet of a bow. Her eyes landed on her lap, then on her buzzing phone. The perfect interlude. The train she was intending to catch called to her through her alarm. She heard the train whooshing past in her head instead of the generic buzzing and shuttered. She had only missed a train once, and it was a premature departure she could not have predicted. One she hated to relive yet did with each and every single train ride, each and every day.

 

Mina’s soul had left her that day, the sturdy rebel of the past dissolved into the cryptic lonely pacifist of the present. The brighter than head beams glimmer that Momo had once spotted in Mina’s eyes dulled with thoughts of the past. They lost so much light, even a stranger like Sana could tell. “Is everything okay?” she offered a warm hand to cup over Mina’s frail ones.

 

“I’m sorry, but I think I have to go.”

 

Sana smiled charmingly as always, accustomed to women coming and going in her life. She was but an eternally grinning Catbus taking on passengers and channeling them to their next destination, never permitted to stay with them.  Once departed they were gone from her, whereabouts ambiguous, fate more so ambiguous. And so, she let the gentle child-like woman go. 

 

***

 

Mina couldn’t go any faster to run away from it completely. She was a helpless child. The scent of cigarette smoke whisked around her daintily like a ballerina on fine, pointed tiptoes. It soon swarmed her in its nest of memories where she awaited to be a willing prey. “Try one,” she recalled a senior at her dance company in Japan offering her a smoke. She had looked at her in a stunned daze. “We all do it. How do you think we keep so thin and relieve stress with all these people bitching at us all the fucking time?” The older ballerina was dangerously captivating. A Seungyeon of her own kind. Batting eyes intentional or not, lips pointed perhaps with unspoken purpose. She was the sight of a grand cliff, stunning and calling, warning not of the sudden fall she may cause. Mina accepted with her already limber fingers lost to her influence. She had coughed then as she did now, both loving and despising the toxic fumes. 

 

Mina was lost to it, lost along with all the others but also alone. Thinking back, she had always been one to do as the large public transit crowd did. Her crowd, that is. When her friends started going out to drink and clubbing, she tagged along. A homebody disguised as a constant party girl. But it was a coverup she couldn’t keep up long without tiring out. And so, she thought back even further in time to a time when she was more innocent, more corruptible. The little sandbox seem like the entire world to a little girl like Mina, and her classmates the most important people in both the playground and her world. “Why doesn’t anyone play with Suki?” she had quietly asked her private primary friends. She needed their opinion. “Can we ask her to play with us?” 

 

Mina of then was a quiet child, quieter than a dazed mouse and with the tepid facade to match. Her friend patted down the sand and reshaped the castle Mina had worked so hard to build up with no opposition. “My dad said she can only afford this school because her dad won the lottery,” she answered offhand, then went back to reconstructing, eyes never bothering to look at Mina.

 

“That’s awesome!” Mina exclaimed in a voice slightly louder than her usual. She immediately bit her tongue when some of her classmates stared back all the way from across the playground. She had been too outspoken. She wouldn’t do that again. And so, she left the questions be. Continuing to question inside but never voicing it, she questioned herself but never pressured herself to answer just like her moldable sandcastle that she left in the hands of others. 

 

Just like this, she had found herself in the hand of others not so long back. Chaeyoung’s accusation had been partially right. She could still taste him on her tongue. A scent of smoke thicker and more fragrant than cigarette smoke, a clammy hand, and rough scruffs of facial hair that scratched at her thin skin. “You should go,” she had told him. And that was the end of that. 

 

Jeongyeon had come out of hiding then, opening the window to let the devious smoke out. There was no ‘he’s no good for you’ or ‘is this really what you want?’ from her lips, only other motherly reminders. “Such a beautiful day,” she spoke gently. “You can-”

 

“Stay home to save money,” Mina defiantly finished, not in the mood to be pressed for socializing nor enjoying the outside world. It was better on her bank that way anyways, she gave herself a non-thorough explanation for her withdrawal. Her fragmented words still held a truth to them. She had been lucky the studio kept her on as staff after she resigned, but it wasn’t enough to cover her expenses. Her former approaching-lavish successful dancer life had cost her much.

 

And that’s where Jeongyeon fit in. Her under the table roomie, a source of both financial and mental comfort. Jeongyeon was more than a crutch, she wouldn’t let Mina mope. Never. She nearly pounced on her on the nice couch she called her bed, a couch that could easily accommodate two. She snickered at Mina’s prettified face and together they laughed, laughed until Jeongyeon’s hands glossed over Mina’s head massaging it evenly and firmly on both sides. Perks of being ambidextrous, Mina though with a pleasing shiver and a mind clouded in another way.

 

Jeongyeon was a mixed batch of ice cream, she was sometimes soft and sometimes hard. But mostly sweet, sometimes surprisingly so like the men who’d give up their seats for Mina (except Jeongyeon didn’t have an ulterior motive). Now she was hard on Mina. Her hands stopped and her words turned to lecture. “Well maybe if you cut back on the jewelry, and the clothes, and the games,” she played with Mina’s hair a bit more, like she had when playing dolls with her sisters growing up, “and the perfume, and the cigarettes, and-“

 

Jeongyeon’s hand was removed with a determined grip. “Don’t say it, Jeongyeon. Please. I never ask for anything from you.” Mina exhaled a long quivering sigh. 

 

It was more than enough to make Jeongyeon want to hold her close. She reframed wanting Mina to recall her own strength instead of relying on hers. “Mmm,” Jeongyeon nodded in agreement, face dropping. 

 

“How do you do it?” Mina questioned her instead. “How do you afford everything while going job to job?”

 

“Well, swallowing my pride and taking the occasional payouts from my parents doesn’t hurt,” Jeongyeon admitted with a dash of remorse. “Just because everyone knows my parents as ‘Seongyeon’s parents’ doesn’t make me less of a daughter.” Just like how you leaving the dance world doesn’t make you any less of a precious loved daughter, she wanted to remind Mina. She held her tongue in the end according to Mina’s plead and amused her instead. “Worst comes to worst,” she eyed Mina mischievously and scooped her up in one swoop to much playful protest; Mina squirmed in her arms like a bashful bride being carried bridal style, “I’ll sell Mina!” She swung her against the wall, leaving a hand to cover the back of her head as they quickly got over their bout of laughter. Mina’s newly cut hair back then left little hairs littered across her dainty face that Jeongyeon wanted to pick off one by one. In return, Mina oh so wanted to straighten out the camouflage sweater Jeongyeon wore almost on the daily. It smelled of her, smelled of boldness and tenderness in one tall, hard yet soft package. Naturally, they drew closer and closer to each other.

 

Jeongyeon saw it then, her courageous face reflecting in Mina’s wide fascinated eyes. She laughed again, denying the exchange. “How do people ever take cheesy moments like this seriously?” she questioned, temporarily resting her head on Mina’s chest. It pounded away. Jeongyeon hastily drew back, saw another face in Mina’s and drew back even more. She excused herself and left, leaving Mina abruptly. In typical Jeongyeon fashion, she never talked of this incident, and in typical Mina fashion, she never asked. 

 

***

 

Momo never asked much about her personal life. She was just there to teach her dance. Chaeyoung was thankful, but she was also envious. Envious of what Tzuyu and Jihyo had. She’d always wanted an older sister. She would make do with a reliable instructor, despite her awkwardness. 

 

“Okay, let’s take five,” Momo called for a break seeing the perspiration running down Chaeyoung’s ever-growing hair that swirled and lashed around like a train on a winding path. It grew each and every day unlike her height (much to her dismay). 

 

Chaeyoung didn’t complain much though. She took a swing of her water bottle and hopped back to Momo to ask for feedback. “How’d I do?” 

 

Momo smiles, never one to harshly criticize another’s dancing. Chaeyoung was good, she delivered. However, there was an individual flair that she didn’t see. And she told her that in the most indirect way possible. “Good, but...”

 

“But?” Chaeyoung wanted the criticism, having ingrained it as motivation for improvement long ago.

 

“Well, do you have someone you both envy and admire?” Momo repeated words she had been asked by a dance instructor and friend of her own. Someone that was so good at being them that it covered their flaws.

 

Chaeyoung pouted with thought and then replied with purpose. “Plenty. There’s the mysterious former trainee who was so good at everything, but suddenly left. I bet she didn’t see herself the way everyone else did. That was some time ago but even now, we call girls who suddenly leave ‘victims of the Jisoo curse’. That’s how loud of a presence she is even in her absence. Then there’s a successful sunbae from my school, my roomie, this silly girl at my book club..” Chaeyoung caught herself from rambling on, stopped before she’d stumble upon thoughts of _her_. 

 

There was a moral to the question of course. Momo has just temporarily forgotten, lost in thoughts of the woman Chaeyoung failed to mention as well as her own roommate. She could’ve been more direct with the former but she couldn’t. She could’ve despised the latter for hogging Jeongyeon but she couldn’t. They were awesome like that, admirable and aspiring. Much like her own sisters. 

 

On this occasion, she thought of Sana. Sana and Nayeon...together. Imagine her surprise when she heard Sana staying overnight in Nayeon’s room one night some time not too long ago. God, the ruckus the made like multiple trains bursting their horns as they repeatedly entered and exited tunnels. (Actually, strike that image. It’s much too graphic for Momo’s poor mind and our poor audience...) 

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nayeon adverted her eyes the next day when she stumbled out of bed late, hair disheveled. “I invited Sana over ‘cause I wanted to try something spicy,” she said I’m self-defense. _Is that what they call it these days?_ Momo had wondered. This was an earlier Nayeon. One that couldn’t fully trust Momo. Because she couldn’t bring herself to believe it was only a night of kisses with Jeongyeon. Her jealousy wouldn’t allow it. 

 

Sana, on the other side of the same needy blank book, had most of her pages open for all to see. With Nayeon off to another interview, she entertained her sister with rather explosive questions. “Quick! Before I brush and wash up, does this look like a drool stain or is it obviously-”

 

Momo half screamed and half blanked out to drown out Sana’s free-spirited open questions. Not like Momo would know anyways. It was way too much information. She’d never forgotten that encounter. It scarred her very much in the grossest of ways. She knew too much about her same-aged sister. This is why they had never and could never fight. They knew too many secrets, and too many vulnerabilities. Unlike her and her full biological sister who squabbled and squabbled, she felt Sana as an extension of herself. Silly and willful. Lost and found. Whatever Sana had with Nayeon, or with any other woman for that matter, was short like fall in Canada. Momo’s fall in Canada. 

 

“You want to know what the big difference between us is?” Sana had asked her once. Momo shook her head, unable to think of a single thing. Sana smile as ever and went on with a softer reflective voice that quieted the more she spoke. “One time I asked my mom if she still loves dad.” She looked then at Momo, the daughter of the wife her dad could never leave. She was not teary-eyed but filled with tears within. “She never answered.” Momo hugged her, never letting go. They’d be the love they needed. If only it was enough, enough for them to stop seeking out replicas of the lacking fragments of love they had once received. 

 

“You're not you without soju,” Sana had offered to pour her a drink then and whenever else there was nothing left to say. So Momo applied these words to her pupil in the present. The only one she had ever taken on pro bono. Drawing back on her unfinished explanation, Momo concluded to Chaeyoung, “Be like that. Stand out because you’re you. Don’t just be a cover artist, be your own star.”

 

Chaeyoung flipped her hair and smirked. In her head, she looked alluring and inexplicably fatal. In reality, she looked like a kid trying to take on the role of an adult. “I know I’m gonna be a star!” She held her awkward model pose for only a split second then grasped her belly, laughing. 

 

Momo rolled her eyes, judged, and laughed along nevertheless. She was glad she had come help this girl, giving up on the random stranger yet again. Things happened when they happened. She would let it be, while also not forgetting to celebrate life’s little wordless moments.  And perhaps this occasion deserved a toast. “Want a drink?” she offered.

 

“Momo unnie!” Chaeyoung jumped in false shock, breaking formalities with her for the first time without ever realizing. “I’m barely legal!”

 

“So no drinks with the rest of the company?” 

 

Chaeyoung broke character, again being charismatic Chaeng from under her hair extension and feminine make up. “Only if it’s the hard stuff. None of the fruity shit.”

 

Momo was in a bit of stupor. Did she just hear her talk to her informally _and cuss_? 

 

“Sorry, am I allowed to cuss in front of you?” She felt a hand on her head, like the touch of a gentle older sister. 

 

“Sure. I always hear at least one of my sisters cuss.” And not always in an upset manner, nor one that Momo would want to remember overhearing. It was a surprise not all too unpredictable, but unsettling nevertheless. 

 

***

 

It was a surprise not all too unpredictable, but unsettling nevertheless. There Dahyun was before Sana’s eyes latching onto a female friend outside her school yard, like a lemur never letting go. Sana saw her so openly happy and affectionate with this girl, something they could never be. They looked so stunning, two long-haired beauties pure in look and character with matching toggle coats may she add. Anyone would’ve mistaken them as a merry campus couple relishing in the soft billowy snow had it not been the fact that they were both girls and from different countries. Sana resented it, resented Kyulkyung’s presence or rather more so the lack of her own. What she wouldn’t give to hold Dahyun like that in public, to nuzzle her like all the straight couples did on the train a nauseating amount, exerting the new generation’s sexual freedom. A freedom Sana and Dahyun could never have, not in this country, perhaps not anywhere. Sana had the unnerving thought then: Dahyun was definitely a main lead, but maybe just not hers. 

 

Dahyun, on her part, thought vice versa when their eyes met. Words of a conversation she had earlier the previous day, still pestering her. “Oh, unnie!” she had said upon bumping shoulders with an older acquaintance. They were in a tiny forgotten film shop, one looking and smelling of decay. 

 

Nayeon didn’t seem to mind the store’s state. It was cheap and convenient although lengthy and not apt with customer order updates for that matter. She was too self-absorbed to care. Seeing Dahyun though, she hastily released the fingers she had been chewing on - a bad habit, but she was too nervous to help it. “Dahyun!” she greeted her with a hug and unexpected wonder. Dahyun loved the arts for sure, but Nayeon had never known photography to be her forte. She was a Ponyo out of the sea, a train off the tracks. “What are you doing in a film shop?” 

 

The cheeky smile that championed Dahyun amoung the crowd lit her face like a soft florescent round light ever so beautiful, even Nayeon couldn’t help linger a bit longer on its purity. The antiquated cameras around her seem to whiz with renewed youth as well. “I’m waiting to get a family portrait for my parents’ anniversary!” she exclaimed. An occasion to celebrate indeed. “It’s their twenty-fifth!”

 

Nayeon clasped her back not knowing what else to do. “Wow, congrats! That’s a huge milestone.”

 

Dahyun’s grin faded into a sterner look. “I know right? It’s a quarter of a century! I can’t even imagine living that long.”

 

An awkward laugh came from Nayeon. Had it been Jeongyeon or Jihyo or maybe even Momo, she would’ve whacked them hard and accused them of calling her old. Instead, to kind Dahyun she said, “Yeah, imagine being with someone for that long. The patience and courage it must take.” 

 

Dahyun felt unease and unable to explain it. Then blurred out, “It’s a lot easier when it’s an arranged marriage, I suppose. Both sides of the family supporting my parents and all.”

 

“But what’s the fun in that? You don’t get to be your own agent.” Nayeon said before she could hold herself back. “Sorry...” she apologized too late. They both reflected on this a bit until a graying man came forth from the curtain that separates the storefront from the storage room. 

 

“There you are,” he handed a paper envelope to Nayeon. “Your developed film.” Nayeon bowed and rushed out almost forgetting to briskly turn around to say bye to Dahyun. She had somewhere to be.

 

She left as Dahyun stood still. She recalled them now. The kindest words her father had ever said about her. “Women like you drown oceans, like Xi Shi making fish forget how to swim.” He didn’t mean it kindly, but Dahyun told herself he did. In any case, it was the old-fashioned authoritarian in him telling her to remember her place, be a nobody. Beauty and strength were not welcomed features in women in her family, it was only known to lead them astray. Take them away from the mapped subway course and onto a different stop, a foreign land. She was not Ponyo to them, but a king breaker - well, in her case a queen breaker, but they should never know. Would she and Sana be each other’s downfall for loving so brashly, enchanted by youth’s short-lived beauty? Or would they struggle on after the passion was gone like her parents and this rotting film store, staying only because they’ve already committed to it for so long?

 

Dahyun had asked Chaeyoung during their campus tour what she was doing sketching so many people on one page. Chaeyoung had a simple reply, “I’m telling their story.”

 

“Well that’s quite ambitious of you. Isn’t it hard to capture everyone’s story all in one piece?” 

 

Chaeyoung shrugged. “Their ‘story’ as in singular. We’re all sharing each other’s story aren’t we?” Chaeyoung thought of _her_ yet again. She hoped that once departed from the same train, they’d all be in it together, weaving into each other’s lives, never out. If a train could coincidentally bring people together, it could be that they were meant to meet. And she decided then to apologize to Mina if she were to ever see her again. After all, she was not just a random part of her story, she was it. A wholesome tale to be told.

 

For Dahyun, Chaeyoung’s words without further verbal explanation was not enough. She was a woman of many words. How could her story be someone else’s also? How could their story be hers? Yet, confused as she was she wished then as she did now that Sana would be hers as she would be Sana’s. Once departed, a train couldn’t be stopped, and the train carrying her heart had left for Sana’s station long ago. Be it in Korea, Japan, or some mystical Ghibili land that Sana was so fond of talking about. Regardless of where it was, Dahyun wanted to believe it was their story to tell. Gripped with fear she wished for her next destination. Next stop, happiness.


	11. Fears of the Past, Present, and Future

Windswept cloudy central Seoul felt destitute. Not a bird flew in the polluted air this late in the season, only passing vehicles spewing smog brought noise to the scenery – if you could call it that. It was too dreary to be the only midday. It was too troublesomely dark to be the abode of two new lovers. And that was where they faltered. Seoul was a city constantly on the move, pressing against the wheels of the ever-speeding buses and trains, while the two young paramours hesitated in still-motion at a red light only they could see. Sana held Dahyun’s hand gingerly, slipping away with each step they took together. Slipping into her own fortress, her mind, she contemplated this budding relationship safe from the concerned ears of Dahyun. It would’ve been easier for them both if it had never begun, better for them all.

 

Sana who lived for love found more permanent fear in it than lasting happiness. Dahyun’s brother had reminded her of this when he requested that they meet up first thing in the day. Sana had accepted baffled. It was his last day of break from service. What did he have to say it her? _Does he know?_ She sat anguished at the same café where she would later meet Mina for the first time, awaiting words of judgement.

 

It started off causally enough. Dahyun’s brother, like her in all manners except his build and lack of a semi-boisterous personality, sat calmly across from Sana. It was not to last, not for long. He took a sip of his tea, and his face soured. _“_ Ah man, the tea is too sweet for me. Want it?”

 

 _What am I going to do with two teas?_ Sana thought. She took it graciously anyways, switching back and forth between his tea and hers while he scrutinized her without a word. Her feet jittered, her heart stuttered. She had kept calm as she could, and not told Dahyun as her brother had asked. Now she wished she had. Dahyun always knew how to appease her.

 

Sana couldn’t bring herself to avoid eye contact with the imposing older sibling any longer. She looked up, setting the two teas she couldn’t decide between aside. Then finally, the words came. They were simultaneously expected and frightening: _“So you and Dahyun”._ It was not a question.

 

Sana almost spit out both teas, feeling like a tea-on-tea mess. She froze in time, eyes sleek yet glaring like a deer in the headlights of one of those notoriously fast speeding taxis that she could never catch and hated.

 

“Walls are thin you know. Or maybe you two were just that loud.” He pursed his lips. On Dahyun, it was a tasteful poised look. On him, it was menacing. He continued on firmer, “Lucky for you my parents are heavy sleepers and their bed is across the house.” He took what was formerly his tea cup back, clutching it inflexibly in his big hands. It was no longer a toy for the indecisive Sana. “I love her,” he said as a threat. “We all do, even if we don’t show it. Be careful with her. Think of more than just yourself. Think of everyone else, and of your future careers.” With that, he stood up to leave, but not before turning to issue his final piece of judgment. “It’s unnatural, you know.”

 

“It’s unnatural, you know?” Sana suddenly repeated these words to Dahyun in the present, unleashing today’s stresses on her unfairly. Seeing astonished panic in Dahyun’s pale frame, she lightened. “You being that close to your best friend,” she mumbled. She couldn’t tell Dahyun of the brother who had so bothered her. And certainly not of the woman who had made her into the likes of a wanton. They were two strikes in the same day and Sana couldn’t risk a third arguing in public with Dahyun. Another egregious encounter today and Sana would be completely out of her mind.

 

Dahyun could’ve protested unlike voiceless Sana. _What do you call all your grossness with all those other girls?_ she wanted to say. She huffed heavily out of her nose instead, having learned from her family how to curve her emotions. Or rather, stack them up until her mind was a junkyard of unwanted vehicles. She donned the Kim’s trademark mask of carefree cheerfulness instead. Just like how Sana had mastered her own father’s forged yet convincing laugh. “Mmm,” Dahyun rubbed her body against Sana’s, being as sweet as can be. “Honey, are you jealous?” she had the audacity to both ask and tease her in the subway cart. Couple culture and same-sex skinship was a norm, but Dahyun was pushing the limit, pushing Sana.

 

How could Sana take it? The young woman who had not wanted so much as to hug her like she often did with her closest friends was now all over her. So enamored from a long night of kisses and pushing boundaries that she had forgotten her own perhaps? Sana couldn’t grasp it until she realized Dahyun was teasing her. It bothered her all the more. How could reserve Dahyun be so buoyant now for the simple purpose of embarrassing her like this? She hated her a bit for it, but loved this new bold side of her even more. Sana could tease plenty, but she lacked in execution. How could anyone ever believe that Dahyun had overtaken her more than once, that they had only kissed and gently fondled and nothing more the entire night? Dahyun’s own brother couldn’t believe their innocence just as Sana’s own sister, Momo, couldn’t believe Sana’s innocence with Nayeon and _some_ of the others she had been rumored to have bedded.

  
Sana flushed maddeningly trying to keep a blank face. She promptly scooted one seat over to escape. She was a child finally receiving its much hard-earned candy only to find out she didn’t know what to do with it. She was utterly afraid and completely incapable of voicing it. Dahyun had no way of knowing. They had never formally established what their relationship may be nevertheless their perimeters, and those for outside the bedroom in particular. “Who are you and what did you do with my Dahyunnie?” Sana exclaimed with a heightened voice as Dahyun cutely shuffled closer, mischief written all over her gloating face. She loved winning over Sana, and something about her ease loosened up Sana a bit as well.

 

So they walked side-by-side to campus, occasionally sharing a smile. They were the most terrible attempt at a discrete campus couple anyone had ever seen. Yet they were happy, no matter for how short a time. To their misfortune, however, like a car leisurely going its way before it’s smashed into right down the middle, Sana’s third strike of the day came running into them on accident. Her third ghost of Christmas came in the form of a mild mushroom-haired porcelain-skinned young woman much too young-looking for her age. She hid her vibrant eyes and perplexingly tender face mostly hidden under the cape of her red hooded coat. On first look, one would mistake her as a remarkable Little Red Riding Hood cosplayer if not the young storybook girl herself. And she had been just that for Sana – a wonderful fairytale – until Sana herself closed the book.

 

The woman bowed in apology, lifting her hood that blinded her sidelines only to see the she-wolf who had devoured her. She stepped back. Scorn riddled her pale forehead with wrinkles Sana had never seen on her before. The question of what she was doing here would swiftly be answered. “I see you’ve met the new teaching assistant!” the head teacher proclaimed, ignorant of the stressed run-in. Sana tremored internally seeing the dewy still-innocent roundest of round eyes like two glass beads. They called to her, forcing her to recall all the apologies she had said half-heartedly. She’d looked at them for too long. Frozen in space and time with a woman who once would’ve stood in Dahyun’s place.

 

“Do you two know each other?” Dahyun whispered with a grip on Sana’s hand, hoping she’d be relinquished from this sudden hypnotism. Sana in return dropped Dahyun’s hand as she had once dropped the trustful woman’s.

 

 _Know her?_ Of course she did. And intimately, too. She had been Eunha’s first anything only to break her everything.

  
*******

 

Everything Jeongyeon owned from her heart to her head felt broken. She didn’t recognize the woman sitting across from her. Her vision blurred into a barren landscape dashing by while her pupils never stopped jittering like rattling railroad carts. “I’ve been keeping it from you until it was official, but I applied for public schools too. They’ll be transferring me away to the countryside soon,” everything from the kimchi on the table to the empty chairs around them and the calligraphy wall scrolls seemed to chant at Jeongyeon in repetition of Nayeon’s sudden revelation. Nayeon’s honest words seemed filled with deceit. The kind Jeongyeon should’ve saw coming but was too blindsided by the cape of affectionate trust she wrapped around them both to see before crashing into.

 

She should’ve suspected. Nayeon with her constant train of interviews with prestigious private academies wouldn’t just stop mid-track to ask Jeongyeon out to show her some photos. Nayeon was smarter than people gave her credit for, soothing people into situations. Jeongyeon who had spent much of her life running errands for her, running after her, now found herself left behind. Belatedly told of the betray. She should’ve known, knowing Nayeon’s desperation she’d take the guaranteed cushy government job. Knowing her derided ambition that she would seek a swifter promotion in her ranks by volunteering to teach in remote areas. They had joked about it before.

 

“With all your piercings and inexperience, you might as well become a public school teacher,” Jeongyeon had whispered to her somewhat in jest the night she carried her home. It had been Jeongyeon’s unspoken wish after all. At least then Nayeon would have a safety net in stable employment, low pay or not. It was more than Jeongyeon could ask for with her decently paying modeling gigs that were few and far in-between. And plus…and plus that way Nayeon could work closer and see her more if she so chose to. Jeongyeon was sure she would.

 

But Nayeon thought differently that night on Jeongyeon’s back. She buried herself a bit deeper in Jeongyeon’s neck, wanting to kiss it again and again if only Jeongyeon wouldn’t freak out. If Nayeon were to surrender herself to the position, she’d rise up higher than expectations. She’d take the hard route, she told herself. She would take the least desirable postings in the middle of nowhere as those looking for future consideration for the best administrative positions in education in Seoul often did. She couldn’t be content, and that was her greatest problem.

 

It was Jeongyeon’s greatest insecurity as well. For a woman so supposedly tough given her authoritarianism, sharpness, and assertive looks and nature, she had too much fear to be happy for long. She who so wanted normality in her life also appalled it, for she had been taught and trained all her life to be the best at whatever she did, just like Nayeon. She couldn’t be content never being good enough. “What are you even doing with your makeup?” her sister had once lectured her, dissing everything from her boyish clothes and hair to her lack of cosmetic skills at the time. She had come to Nayeon later that day on the eve of their high school graduation crying.

 

“Screw everyone. As long as you’re happy,” Nayeon had told her, wiping her tears that plopped heavily on the floor.

 

Jeongyeon of the present just like the Jeongyeon of the past grew angry at herself, burning from resentment and Nayeon’s touch on her hand. “I feel stupid for crying. What am I even crying over?” she repeated the words of her younger self, having grown so much since then and also so little. She hastily distanced herself from Nayeon.

 

It hadn’t mattered to Jeongyeon if she herself was happy. All that had mattered was others. Her domineering family who drove her this way and that to their will. Her previous roommate turned lawfully wedded wife who she had gotten just drunk enough to sign the documents for despite her misgivings. Her now roommate who’d rather be held and swaddled than talk about her feelings, too self-absorbed with misery to care for others much less look after Jeongyeon. And now her best friend Nayeon who she would have given everything for and did. Even all the times Nayeon held onto her in public, causing others to look and making Jeongyeon feel uncomfortable. Even all the times she’d abandon any plans or shame she had to do as Nayeon asked, causing others to question the extent of their relationship. Jeongyeon had stuck through it all, recalling the times Nayeon held onto her. The night before their graduation she had to come to Nayeon being the one who was a hot mess for a change. Nayeon had let her cry her worries and insecurities out on her, promising to never tell a soul. “I’ll just say I dreamt it, that you never came to me if anyone asks,” Nayeon had reassured her that night.

 

Jeongyeon wanted to say those words back to her. She so wanted this to be all a dream. And so, she ran out of the hole-in-the-wall restaurant as Nayeon had once ran out of JYPE. She ran scarred and hopeless, knowing Nayeon wouldn’t chase after her. She couldn’t catch up to her even if she tried. But Jeongyeon so wanted it, wishing for the impossible because it would make herself happy for a change knowing it would come at the frightening cost of admitting everything Nayeon meant to her. For she loved her _so,_ _so_ much. 

  
*******

 

It scared Tzuyu to admit how much she loved her. _‘I’m in your house right now,’_ she typed out as a text. To think that in all her eighteen years she’d never loved anyone so much more than this creature. This majestic tiny animal wasn’t even hers. She took yet another picture of the little dog she was put in charge of and sent it to the owner along with her text message. _‘Just walked him and brought him in. Heading out now,’_ she sent the last message before walking out. The energetic dog ran after her whining when she shut the door to leave. Tzuyu wanted to cry. She hated leaving animals behind.

 

“Tzuyu, we can’t adopt every dog and bunny you see,” her mom had chided her silliness countless times before. Little Tzuyu wouldn’t cry, but she would be disgruntled for days on end. Silently making others uncomfortable with her furious eyes and sulky wordless presence. It was shortly after one such incident that her mother opened a chain of dog cafes that took and shelter dogs and Tzuyu finally smiled again. She was simple and stubborn like that. Her mom wouldn’t have wanted her to take on dog-sitting as a part-time job either, but here she was.

 

And there Chaeyoung was on the other side of the door as well, having literally run here from her dance lesson to pick up Tzuyu. She was panting but stopped when she saw Tzuyu and broke into the biggest grin. The tall proud girl was the Haku to her Sen, a fearless spirit to the little girl that was Chaeyoung. They were both children with so much to take away from each other. Chaeyoung who sought trouble for herself venturing into the unknown trying to explore her full self, voiced her fears and dislikes so freely that Tzuyu sought to learn from her.

 

“How’d you get pass the security guard?” Tzuyu asked with much intrigue. (They were in an exclusive gated community for the privileged after all.) She laughed hard at an exhausted Chaeyoung, wanting to hug her. She swung her long arm around Chaeyoung, walking side-by-side with her, although it meant taking small steps to match her gate. “Did you just run?”

 

Chaeyoung removed her arm gently but with a small angry animal’s furry. “No! I said I lived here and that he could call my parents if he wanted to, but they’d be annoyed. So he buzzed me in…and then I ran.”

 

Tzuyu laughed harder. “Nice!” She gave Chaeyoung her full approval with a solid thumbs-up. “You didn’t have to go pick me up though.”

 

“No,” Chaeyoung protested again. She walked backwards to make her point while keeping eye contact with Tzuyu. “It’s your first day on the job in this big neighborhood. What if you get lost and some creeper rich guy abducts you?”

 

Deliberately taking much bigger steps now to get ahead of Chaeyoung who struggled to walk faster backwards, Tzuyu weighed in on the situation. “Hmm, I guess you have a point,” she agreed. She could’ve said, “ _Then my mom would pay for my return and he’d mysteriously disappear. Besides, what could you do to help then anyways?”_ but thought better of the joke. Besides, there was something about wealth and privilage that bothered Chaeyoung although they were both in school to obtain some sort of celebrity status. Tzuyu wasn’t sure what it was. She knew better than to irk her though. Provoking Chaeyoung would be like provoking a lion in its own den. Chaeyoung didn’t love argue but she could sure win any argument she set her mind to winning.

 

The two walked merrily for some time and stopped at an intersection in time to pass by a dejected Nayeon. Nayeon on her part sought to avoid the two mismatching friends. She was in no mood to talk to the puny but deep book club girl and her scary looking giant of a friend. The instant the pedestrian lights turned green, she sped walk past as fast as her weak left knee would take her past the two. It didn’t stop her from hearing a snippet of their conversation.

 

“Don’t you just feel like everything is meaningless, and then you die?” Chaeyoung poses nonchalantly.

 

 _What?!_ concerned Nayeon almost burst out.

 

“Yeah,” Tzuyu agreed casually without a hint of emotion.

 

 _Kids, could you lighten up a little,_ she thought. Surely whatever bothered them couldn’t be oh so bad in the grand scheme of things. Not nearly as bad as what she had done to Jeongyeon. Little did she know the reason for Tzuyu’s confliction came from another one of her close friends. Jihyo had confronted her for an earnest talk earlier that day.

 

“Don’t’ take this the wrong way but have you ever been hurt badly, Tzuyu?” she sat her down on her couch offering her sweetmeats as a grandmother would before long talks.

 

Taking the sweets in hand, Tzuyu ate cautiously, nibbling away. She was to go look after a doggy later, she couldn’t get caught up eat here and litter herself with crumbs. “What do you mean?” she asked equally cautious.

 

“Like scorned by someone close,” Jihyo clarified a bit, afraid of giving away too much.

 

“No,” Tzuyu answered swiftly, not proud for once. She could sense the inevitable talk. She didn’t want to hear the truth she had ignored. She wanted their friendship regardless of her fears of its fraudulency. The happy pretenses that Sana and Dahyun gave to each other Tzuyu gave to Jihyo and a _very_ few others in the form of her unwavering friendship. It dawned on Tzuyu that for a girl who hated liars she herself sure was good at feigning normality and uncaringness.

 

Jihyo was quick to make her address it, quicker and smoother than a criminal on the Orient Express. “You’re not unfeeling,” she closed their distance with her earnestness. “You just have a tough front.”

 

Tzuyu snapped back at the exposé, putting down the tin of desserts. Child’s play was over. “You don’t know all of me, _teacher_.” She addressed her formally for the first time in some time to snub her. Of all the people claiming they were close to her, Jihyo was closest to the truth. But the truth was more than they both dared to expose.

 

“You’re right. I don’t.” Jihyo came close to reveal herself. However, her loud voice and leading presence aside, she too was petrified. She was just a young woman with a big voice and big heart, not the most courageous. So she sighed instead and reminded Tzuyu of what insights she did have on her. “I do know that you’re softer than you let on, though.”

 

“Explain,” Tzuyu demanded like she was the teacher calling on a student, pressing them for a detailed answer.

 

“Well, you stopped at the animal rescue center for an hour today. That’s why you were late to class wasn’t it?”

 

“How’d you-”

 

“There’s dog fur all over you,” Jihyo pointed out at Tzuyu’s fur-covered jeans.

 

“Ah!” Tzuyu hastily stood up, dusting off strands of hair. Jihyo chuckled a tad, helping her pluck out the most resistant of hairs. She noticed one on the upper corner of her jacket and reached for it. Tzuyu did so too at the same time. And there their hands held each other for the shortest and also the longest time before Jihyo let go.

 

The so-called true adult in this situation, Jihyo spoke without looking up. “Shouldn’t you get going? It’s your first day on the job isn’t it?”

 

Tzuyu got up to leave without another word. She was a silent iron giant. Only in exterior form. Her doubts and worries got to her and she had to ask, “Didn’t you have something to say to me?”

 

Jihyo withered, averting Tzuyu’s demand for the truth yet again. “No, nothing…” she mumbled. _At least not right now_ , she said to herself for what would end up being the last of many times _._

 

“That’s what I thought.” Tzuyu walked out trying not to think too hard on her words.

  
*******

 

Mina tried to not think so hard on the pestering thoughts that festered in her rotting mind. She was out for a smoke break from work, damn it. Why wouldn’t her agitations leave her be? She inhaled deeper, trying harder to let out huffs of her pent up emotions. Then came that dancer girl again, the one with questioning eyes too timid to ask. She scuttled over, a child having just found her person of interest. Mina fumbled seeing her make her way there. She didn’t know if she should put out her light, having had men and women alike pull cigarettes out of her hand saying it’s unwomanly. (So much for a socially advanced country.) Mina twitched and shivered under her light jacket then thought _screw it_. She’d might as well be herself, and Momo could take it or leave it. She let out a long breath, instantly feeling less tense.

 

“Can I get one too?” Momo asked though she’d never actually smoked before. It was the allure of the company that had her delusional to the risks. Mina starred; starred some more then broke into the slightest of what Momo hoped to be a smile and not a grimace. It was hard to tell when Mina always looked away just when Momo had enough courage to look at her for longer than a second. On this rare occasion though, Mina handed her an unlit expensive foreign cigarette, and Momo gladly accepted.

 

In the construction site adjacent to their dance studio, a truck blared out a classical tune as it backed up. The familiar tune of Beethoven’s _Für Elise_ inadvertently stirred up font childhood memories in Mina. Never one to know what to say to someone unfamiliar, Mina let out, “I always want ice cream whenever I hear this.”

 

“What?” Momo asked with a tilted head.

 

Both Mina and Momo voicelessly cussed at themselves, beating up themselves inside for seeming weird or rude. Mina was the first to regain her composure. “I lived in the States for a few years as a young kid. Here in Korea, _Für Elise_ is used by big vehicles that are backing up, but in the States it’s used by ice cream trucks,” the nervous woman hastily explained away, reddening considerably doing so. _Damn it, Mina. Why’d you have to say anything?_ she scolded herself. She had long decided that it was better not to talk too much or she’d have another one too many regrets. For one reason or another she had broken that rule for Momo.

 

“Aaahh,” Momo nodded, not knowing what to say either. She thought so fondly of Mina, this wizened and worldly woman. Clearing her throat, Momo forced herself to talk. Mina was looking at her and she couldn’t be the fool others thought she was. “You know, I’ve been meaning to formally introduce myself to you for a while now,” she made it clear, still too timid to make direct eye contact as she gestured for a light.

 

Mina lit the cigarette and snapped the lighter close. “Look, if this is about my–”

 

“No!” Momo panicked, waving her arms. Suddenly coughing from the foreign intrusion of cigarette smoke, she nearly gagged and shriveled in front of Mina’s otherworldly sophisticated presence. “It’s about you! Only, only you!” she kept insisting until Mina smiled genuinely and widely, crinkling her face and crippling Momo’s heart. “Well...and Jeongyeon,” she added regretfully.

 

“Jeongyeon?” Mina tilted her head with renewed interest.

 

“She...was my roommate.”

 

Momo didn’t get any further than that. A younger woman stormed up to her. “Momo unnie!” she called out possessively. She was bold and headstrong, demanding an introduction.

 

“Ah, Mina, this is my friend–”

 

The newcomer cut her off. “Girlfriend,” she corrected her.

 

Mina gasped inaudible seeing the odd pairing, finding the younger girl quite familiar looking.

 

 

* * *

 ** _Stories to be updated next:_ Twice stories such as  _[Love and Magic (and All Things Momo)](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1326601/love-and-magic-and-all-things-momo-mina-nayeon-momo-sana-samo-mimo-namo-jeongyeon-jeongmo)  (which is now both on AFF and AO3 ^^)_** **and maybe an older story~**

 

**Follow me on Twitter[ _@twicett520_](twitter.com/twicett520), on Tumblr ( _[abitofeverythingstrange.tumblr.com](abitofeverythingstrange.tumblr.com))_ or on AFF under _username[DJ_TNT](https://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view_author_stories/367964/N)_  for more Twice content! **

 


	12. Kilig

 

Thunder timed itself in a climatic manner. The rains that has ceased to pour a few months back came crashing down again, surprising all the unsuspecting women except one. Not so inconspicuously, gentle giant Tzuyu raged more than an overworked engine. Tzuyu was not a hostile girl by any means, but threaten those close to her in any form and and you’d be sorry to say you’ve crossed her. “Momo, what’s with the cigarette?” she asked directly, formalities long forgotten. Polite Tzuyu had been forgotten in the name of love. She came at Mina with flames of accusation. “Mina unnie, Momo doesn’t smoke. Just because you–”

 

Chaeyoung stepped in at precisely the right moment. She was perhaps sometimes more confrontational than Tzuyu at her worst, yet she was a much finer mediator than all those present combined. “We can talk later. It’s starting to pour. We should all get out of the rain.” And with that her oversized MLB umbrella that had always been a welcomed sign to Mina popped up over their heads. Mina clung close to her side willingly. Like the good old days when nothing had to be said. Back when nothing was said.

 

The past and present intermingled as Momo silently handed her own umbrella to Tzuyu who took it wordlessly just as she had on the most sunny of sunny days some time ago. They had seen each other around the neighborhood. They were neighbors who mainly kept mum, but somehow always ended up petting the same dogs at the same time. On one record hot day in particular, Momo had presented Tzuyu her black umbrella with like a school child giving their teacher a gift. It was truly a weird site. Tzuyu had squinted harder under the boiling sun, covering the beach sunburns on her forehead.

 

Momo shied in front of her, a bashful tight-lipped grin colored her love-struck face. “For the sun. I remember that people from mainland China shield themselves from the sun with umbrellas.” She was so, so shy, and so pure in her intent.

 

“Ah.” Tzuyu laughed, taking the hefty gift. “I’m from Taiwan, actually…but do you want to share the umbrella? It’s almost time,” she explained, “the granny is about to walk Bingo.” It was their favorite dog and a shared hobby: petting dogs they couldn’t have with each other. One would say _‘what a lucky chihuahua’_ being so loved. It was actually Momo and Tzuyu who felt blessed to finally meet each other’s acquaintance. It was the luckiest of umbrellas and also one of the unluckiest. An umbrella that witness both the highest of highs and the lowest of lows for the unlikely couple.

 

Tzuyu held the same umbrella high above them both now, resorting to the stiff and unwavering statue she was in front of strangers. Momo could’ve apologized hastily for the long discarded cigarette. She was just too shocked. They had been seeing each other for some time now, but never had they called each other by titles. And now she was suddenly officially Tzuyu’s _girlfriend_. It was not an unintentional slip either, just a badly timed one.

 

It was neither Tzuyu nor Momo who would attempt to mend the situation first. Rather, it was another quiet woman. Mina was the apologizer. She had always been. “It was my fault,” she confessed for a guilt she had no actual idea she was committing.

 

The cigarette boxes in Korea always contained graphic depictions of the negative health effects of smoking. Rotting lungs, a broken family, a bedridden patient, and more. The images had never scared Mina away for she had much more to fear, but now they affected her so. They grew larger on her like how Tzuyu had been so quick to grow up. The young school girl she sometimes saw hanging out with Chaeyoung was now a stunning woman calling another woman her own. She had barely recognized her at first from afar. It was wild to Mina, and something about it left her unnerved. Perhaps she should’ve seen the same change happening to Chaeyoung on a smaller scale, or maybe perhaps she shouldn’t have assumed that Momo was single. Single and interested.      

 

Life is the moving train, not the still train station Mina walked to rainy night after rainy night under Chaeyoung’s umbrella. Chaeyoung had grown, the world had with her. Only Mina stayed the same, still the new dancer from Japan crying alone to the ceaseless rain. A dancer without a partner, having lost hers to the train on a day ironically too sunny for rain.

 

“What are you talking about?” Chaeyoung escorted her back to the present. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.” She eased her of her guilt now as she did then. “What’s really surprising is that we all know each other.”

 

It was a surprise to Mina, just not a major shock. Few things were nowadays. Instead of focusing on the connections they now vocalized, how Tzuyu and Chaeyoung were neighbors with Momo who Tzuyu had asked to teach dance to Chaeyoung, how Chaeyoung knew Mina from the studio, etc. etc. Mina slipped back to the past. At least there she had a full grasped on the situation. Or wanted to believe she did. Mina had lived a life of unpredictable constants. The same school and same friends from elementary school to high school, the same shimmering house on top of the hills ever since her parents settled down permanently in Japan. Yet the girl too afraid to study abroad like her friends had and always regretted not knowing the Hawaiian sunset and American boys, loved the unpredictable the most. It was why she befriended the free-spirited Chaeyoung, why she picked out a random roommate like Jeongyeon, and why she picked up her safe life in Japan and went to Korea for _her_.

 

There was something linking them all besides their spontaneity – their compassion. Mina was so weak to those kind of heart having known so few so genuine. She recalled every warm smiling face. There was the Black Australian English teacher at Sacred Heart who her friends took quite some time to warm up to. Mina had found her fascinating from day one not for any other fact minus her constant encouraging words. There was also the ahjussi who sold bungeo-ppang, carp bread, in front of her building. Choux-cream filled ones were his worst sellers but he always tried to keep a couple in stock for Mina. Then there was _her_. Someone that Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung and perhaps Momo too all combined could never replace. Mina’s cigarette to Momo had been seen as an atrocious crime, but _her_ cigarette to Mina had been a gateway. A train to another world, a ticket to come to Korea with _her_ , for _her_.

 

But enough of _her_ for now. “Unnie, are you okay?” Chaeyoung tended to her immediate needs yet again.

 

“Oh, I’m fine,” Mina waved it off. She was not. Half of her body was soaked in rain. She had been too absentminded. Momo wanted to take her jacket off for Mina had Tzuyu not been there. She didn’t have to with Chaeyoung here. She reprimanded her unnie’s carelessness caringly and patted her down with napkins she kept in her bag. They had already made it to the station where they would part ways with Mina.

 

“You always forget to bring your umbrella,” Chaeyoung sighed not as a complaint, only a comment. She felt warm again, sun-blazed from touching Mina and could only sigh harder. She had thought the feelings had left her. They only festered like Mina’s unspoken pain.

 

“Because you always have yours,” Mina thanked Chaeyoung like this, handing the umbrella back. Their hands met, and Mina held Chaeyoung’s for a while, smiling so effortlessly dangerously at her. “Or Jeongyeon would always have hers and come to get me,” Mina added plainly, letting go and crushing two hearts unintentionally. She was no fool though. She saw the lack of a spark in both Chaeyoung and Momo’s eyes then, and didn’t want to admit that she had misspoken. If cruelty was what she needed to inflict for a bit of peace of mind, so be it. She didn’t want new love. Not like this. And in the name of her self-imposed isolation, she had broken too many hearts before, more prolifically than Sana even.

 

***

 

Could a prolific heart shaker and heart breaker mend her ways? Dahyun wondered all class. She sat most agitatedly, constantly tapping her pen against the notebook, and her feet against the floor. The open page was blank. She couldn’t take notes on the class when she was too preoccupied taking notes of every one of Sana’s indiscrete looks in Eunha’s direction. Her and Sana’s own indiscretion had led Dahyun to be a keen observer of all of Sana’s many quirks. The teacher’s assistant had a habit of shying in front of people she was affectionate to, tensing up her usually loose shoulders and fumbling more than usual. Dahyun saw it all whenever she caught on to her new shadow, Eunha, from the side of her eyes. Former lover or not, it killed Dahyun. It was the first thing she asked about when they reached Sana’s place.

 

Sana was a booked train on schedule, always coming on time, always taking Dahyun to where she wanted to be. But maybe it wasn’t where she needed to be. She was too speechless like the trains as well, leaving Dahyun to ponder. “You’re always running about,” Dahyun accused, refusing Sana’s offer for water, sitting on her bed and patting the spot next to her. “We’re always running about, avoiding others. But to be honest, I don’t even know who these others are most of the time. So stop running from me, Sana. Stop running and tell me everything so we can stand still together and enjoy the moment for once.”

 

The rain had left them wet in bed, unable to relieve themselves. On another day like today, a Sunday morning to be specific, Dahyun had heard the word from the Filipino vendors in the streets of Hyewha. They were watching a soap drama from their homeland instead of selling their wares and couldn’t stop repeating one word: _kilig_. It was a feeling beyond translation, one of butterflies and midnight blues of infatuation, Sana had relayed to her. She had heard it from a Filipina woman once. Of course she had, and from a beautiful one too at that, Dahyun had betted. But right now she didn’t need to know all of that. What she wanted to know was who was this Eunha, this woman who looked at Sana as Dahyun did. This woman who was still very much so in love with Sana, enraptured by her and fearing every second of it.

 

 _Honesty_ , Sana ridiculed the curious word. One had to know it to give it. And she was not so different from her father after all. Causing messes she couldn’t fixes, leaving broken hearts in places of love children every place she went until one would come to find her to haunt her with love and hate intertwined. “Your brother talked to me,” she gave Dahyun an answer to avert her attention from the problem at hand. “He knows.”

 

Dahyun didn’t stir. “And what happened?” Her eyes betrayed her with their constant blinks. Fear. Sana could read it well.

 

“I don’t know, Dahyun,” Sana broke down, shoulders slumped, looking for an excuse to rest on Dahyun and lay down the day’s burdens. Dahyun, so helplessly entangled, offered her shoulder and open arms. She was conflicted, but not unreasonable. “It was like he was testing me or something. I don’t even know.”

 

“Tea cups?” Dahyun asked, already knowing. “He does that. It’s a psychology buff thing. You took both ‘cause you couldn’t refuse and because you’re indecisive right?” Sana nodded, suddenly holding her tighter. “It’s a personality analysis thing he does to size people up. You’re needy, Sana.”

 

Sana snickered.

 

“I’m being serious.” She removed her hands from Sana’s waist. Pulling away from her for a change. “You’re always lingering between options, taking from everything you can. Wanting more of everything even when you can’t handle it.”

 

“Dahyun–” Sana who was always so full of words struggled to enunciate.

 

“Tell me, Sana. Tell me about all of them. What’s Eunha to you?” Dahyun defiantly demanded answers. “And who’s Seungyeon?”

 

 

* * *

Omggg..there’s sooo much more I want to write but I’ll save it for another update that’s coming up pretty soon!!

 

_**Spoilers for next time** (in no particular order):_

Mina dreamed of a dream life in Hawaii while Jeongyeon dreamed of a simple home in Korea, one with Nayeon.

It should’ve been her sister here. She sucked at situations like this.

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“I should’ve told you earlier but…I love you.”

She toppled her, clashing her lips down into a more than welcomed kiss.

And at last, they met.

 


	13. Beloved, At Last

 

 

There were more sides to Sana than an eight-sided die. She had that rigged number one side that everyone saw on the daily, but here in the confines of her home being interrogated by someone she trusted, she showed the evasive eighth side. The most powerful side of her she only showcased when feeling threatened. That, or deeply hurt. “How do you know about Seongyeon?” she scorched her throat to ask.

 

Dahyun withdrew into herself, leaning back on her two arms, putting distance between her and Sana. “You’ve mumbled her name more than once or twice,” she accused her. The words crumbled in her, breaking her feign resolution as they passed her lips. She shouldn’t have come off this ferociously attacking Sana. Dahyun knew better to treat Sana’s delicate heart like this, but she was in a precautious station as well. She had so much to lose for trusting Sana.

 

Sana sat pensive. The little rain drops on Dahyun’s collar caught her eye. She used it to distract herself from her blurring vision. An already cloudy vision now further muddled by unshed tears. “Excuse me,”’ she pardoned herself, running to the restroom to empty her eyes. And there she stood, seeing herself in the mirror but not. Her contacts agitated her, her damp clothes that clutched onto her skin did so too. She wanted to take it all off, to sleep in the nude and forget it all. How could she forget Dahyun right there on her bed though? Hands pressing down hard on the sink, she spent years contemplated what to say until at long last Dahyun came in remorseful. Wrapping herself around her.

 

Her tears dropped then, making Dahyun hold her tighter. “I’m sorry. I-I just didn’t want to be a fool if…” she lingered on her hesitant words, already a fool to Sana’s tears.

 

“I don’t have anyone except you, Dahyun,” Sana said sniffling, deep and low. So unlike her it gave Dahyun chills that the cold rain could never. “Seongyeon is a nightmare I can’t bring myself out of, and so I was a nightmare to Eunha.“ Another look in the mirror had Sana repulsed by her reflection: tears and mucus running amuck, clothes disheveled, and eyes beady. She couldn’t believe Dahyun would want to hold onto her so tight in this state. “What else do you want to know?“ she asked her beloved in earnest, wanting to be wholesomely truthful just unsure if she could do it in this state.

 

Dahyun wetted a hand towel and dabbed Sana’s face, turning it to her and holding it in agonized apology. “Not now,“ she soothed Sana with a whisper, rocking her delicately. “Later when you’re ready. Now wash up and get ready for bed.”

 

Sana opened her mouth to ask if Dahyun would be staying. It was awkward between them right now and she wanted to make it better. She had no qualms against Dahyun. Dahyun had been transparent with her while she remained shrouded in her past. It was a thick black veil of a horrid ghost only she knew best, for it was herself.

 

Trustingly, Dahyun took Sana’s worries into her own, replying before she could even ask. “I already told my parents that I’m sleeping over at a friend’s house and they were fine with it.” She didn’t mention that the said friend she named was Kyulkyung but she figured Sana would do better without that detail. All she wanted was to give her comfort. And so she waited by Sana’s side as she washed her makeup off, took off her contacts, put on her huge round glasses, and changed into her cozy pajamas. She waited there impatiently, wanted to tackle her with kisses, but held back. Wanting to apologize a million times in a million ways, but held back.

 

In Sana’s bed at last, late into the night, Dahyun crawled on top of Sana to remove her glasses. (They would get in the way of what she hoped to accomplish.) She came to her slowly, getting on top of her in a gentle loving manner, crawling her way up. “You don’t need these to see me in the dark.”

 

“Oh?” Sana let out a small laugh, still tender from the exposure but starting to bounce back. “Why’s that?” she challenged, pulling Dahyun down into an embrace.

 

Dahyun laid on her paramour’s heart, wanting its steadfast beating to become irregular for her. She said nothing as Sana edged her on, practically whining now.

 

“Are you ignoring me right now?” a worked-up Sana asked at last.

 

Dahyun laid a hand on Sana’s heart. She could feel her breathing hitch, so responsive to her touch. So this was all it took. “No, I just wanted to listen to your voice.”

 

Sana kept even quieter, listening to Dahyun breathe. In and out, completely calm in complete disregard to everything going on. She would change that, kissing her ever softly on her hand and dragging her down into a deeper embrace. She was her perfect cuddly doll. A doll who thought too much.

 

“Remember that word you taught me?” Dahyun questioned Sana who was now no longer bordering on sleep.

 

Her attentive to Dahyun’s every word was heightened by their intimacy. “Which one?” she posed with a little nibble on Dahyun’s ear. She huffed in success when Dahyun squirmed away. “ _Kimochi? Iku? Titi?_ ” Dahyun whined, shaking her head until Sana got it right. “Oh,  _kilig_.”

 

“Yeah, that.” Dahyun said into the dark, her words absorbed by a miserable night turned warm. One that was growing warmer and warmer. “I just wanted you to know that’s how I feel,” she admitted feeling silly to profess to her professor of sorts.

 

Oh the things Sana wished she could tell Dahyun in that moment. It was like they were on a road with a train passing by between them. Her words caught in the air, always drowned out by the noisy train of her thoughts hastening past. She settled for a simple, “Dahyun-ah, I’m sorry for everything. Someday I’ll tell you everything, but for now you just have to trust that I feel the same.”

 

All that needed to be said clearing the air between them, they kissed. Simple at first, then deep like they night they first discovered each other. Dahyun’s hair that had fallen over her neck was moved aside by Sana in a swift practiced motion. And like that, she was all hers. All hers until one last burning question refused to leave her.

 

A single hand on the heart was all it took to stop Sana in all her eagerness for the second time. “What does this make us?“ Dahyun wanted to know.

 

Again, Sana couldn’t provide an immediate response. A question like this was what had driven her away from Eunha. She was a woman of many nicknames, titles not so much. With titles came obligations and assumptions. And perhaps one had to have witnessed commitment to be able to give it.

 

“We can just be something for now while we figure it out. A  _some_.” Dahyun answered for her, just as afraid of ruining something good by giving it a name.

 

Sana loved her in that moment so much that she could exploded. She kissed her on the neck hard. Her fingers laced in hers, she used their joint hands to lift Dahyun’s shirt, never releasing her neck all the while. It was too much for a beginner. Dahyun winced and Sana rejoiced some more. “As long as we’re exclusive,” Sana paused to state her one and only condition. “You know how jealous I get.”

 

“And you don’t know how jealous I can get,” Dahyun asserted. She kissed Sana back on the neck not hard, but long and passionate until Sana was a slobbering mess. While everyone knew Dahyun as the perfect class president, only Sana knew her as this wild and chic irresistible girl. A girl who’d test the very limits of a  _some_  relationship in more ways than one.

 

On the other side of the wall of Sana’s bedroom, unbeknownst to Sana and Dahyun, they were also testing another person’s limits.  _God, can they get any louder?!_  Jihyo wondered, disgusted and covering her ears with her many pillows just as Dahyun’s brother had done. She felt like puking even more so than the time Sana gave her too much information and told her that both her sister Momo and Nayeon kept their index and middle fingers short. What Jihyo would do to rid her mind of that bit of knowledge. It was then that Jihyo wondered, if Sana’s bed could tell the cornucopia of stories of her countless flings, what would it say? Where would it even begin? Jihyo didn’t want to stick around to find out.

 

***

 

Mina couldn’t stick around the station to find out if she would yet again envision  _her_  there. Where should we begin her account? With the story of her jacket perhaps? If Mina’s go-to jacket could tell her story, what would it say? That Mina should’ve stayed in the station and taken the train home so it could avoid a beating from the onslaught of rain? Or that she should’ve come here earlier. To this little empty but not forgotten grave earlier. Several years earlier in fact, when the jacket was still fresh with the scent of its original owner.

 

From afar, Mina had a startling resemblance to  _her_. Sitting remarkably stiff and melancholic with straight, short and un-styled hair and in  _her_  favorite jacket, she was  _her_  spitting image. Only, she was long gone, and Mina was still here if barely.

 

Mina seemed translucent. She was a spirit all lonesome and passive, willfully unaware of those around her. Yet they always came to find her. Yet another umbrella to shelter her from harm and a familiar voice had come to her. “I almost thought you were  _her_ , and it freaked me out.”’

 

Mina flinched. She wiped the water and tears playing tricks on her eyes and saw a girl she once knew. Now a woman, with an even more genuine smile and bigger heart than before. “Jisoo, what are you doing here?”

 

“I should ask the same of you.” She read the description on the tombstone and pondered over what they both lost. “ _Daughter, sister, friend, dancer, partner, instructor_ ,” she exhaled slowly, tracing the last word, “ _beloved._ ”’

 

They sat there recounting their lost. Jihyo wasn’t  _her_  star pupil but she was the most hardworking and a favorite. To little Jisoo, she had been the best teacher of them all after Nayeon and Jeongyeon left. And Mina, to Mina she was almost all those descriptors and more. It was the reason she was here. Mina who didn’t show an ounce of grief and barely had more reactions than Tzuyu nowadays kept it all internalized, buried deep in this barren grave. Tonight of all nights though, someone had dug those feelings up. She reminded her too much of her relationship with  _her_ for Mina to be able to pretend not to care any longer. And so, she ran here. To a place that didn’t make sense to try to make sense of her loves and losses.

 

“It’s still so senseless, isn’t it? How could she be so fine and well, so fabulous and well-loved and then just disappear one day? Taken by who knows who,” Jihyo choked up, sharing a tear with Mina. ‘ _Leaving nothing where she was last seen by the train platform except a bunch of her short hair, ripped from her as whoever dared harm her ripped her away from us all_ ,’ they both recalled the words repeated by so many reporters.

 

It had been the hottest of days, the most deceptively sunny and cheerful of days. Mina had had pink tulips in hand. One she had brought from her trip to Everland with  _her_  and grown so lovingly waiting for a day when she would find the courage to meet  _her_  on the train. Not as dance partners or friends, but as more. But it wasn’t meant to be.

 

“I’m so sorry!“ she had hastily apologized to two women with an unruly dog although it wasn’t her fault. Her flowers now lied blemished on the floor from the run-in and she wanted to weep. It was a perfectly calculated confession only to be spoiled by a chance encounter.  _These flowers would never do_ , Mina decided, running to buy more. It was the first time she was ever late for the train, and it would be the last. Because now  _she_  was gone forever. Along with the gleaming beaming Mina so ready to open her heart to an unfamiliar love.

 

“I hope you’ve been okay,” Jihyo interjected, getting quite cold and needing shelter. She ran the words she’d been wanting to say to Mina for some time now over in her mind again. She could’ve softened them more, but then they wouldn’t have been as honest. And so as a former student and friend, she said something to Mina that everyone else around her had been too afraid to say: “Life’s too short to live for someone else, especially if they’re gone.”

 

***

 

Jihyo was long gone from Tzuyu’s day, probably at home with her kooky flirty roommate. So why was Tzuyu still thinking about her? It was not like she lived to see her every day. Or did Chaeyoung have a point when she asked her questions she should’ve asked herself much earlier.

 

“Isn’t it great?” Chaeyoung had asked the night of their in-dorm ‘camping’. She stretched out next to Tzuyu, urging her to do the same.

 

“Yeah,” Tzuyu agreed. “I wish she could be here right now.”

 

“Ooh, who?” Chaeyoung couldn’t resist asking, mock punching Tzuyu’s shoulder. She had an inkling and she might as well prove it if Tzuyu was up for it. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” she questioned as a joke.

 

“Of course I do,” Tzuyu answered without hesitation, so matter-of-factly Chaeyoung of all people was awestricken. “But just not who you think.” And it made Tzuyu think for a change. Was she the only one who didn’t see it, or did she see it and chose to keep with the status quo instead? She had chosen Momo for her trusting foolishness, for her simple and straightforward admiration. Could she love someone else so taboo and so mysterious to her? Maybe she already did.

 

Chaeyoung had eventually let out a chuckle that made her dimple seem like a wizened mark of a genius instead of a childish appeal. She then asked, “Who do you want to walk dogs with on a perfect sunny day? Who do you want to ride the last train with on a terrible rainy night? Who do you want to kiss in your bed while I pretend to be asleep in my bunk?”

 

The question had made Tzuyu snicker silently then as it did now that Chaeyoung was doing just that. They had company, and Chaeyoung was an understanding chill roommate.

 

“Tzuyu-ah,” Momo called for her now. She had forgotten that she had a little spoon that she was upset at on this rainy night. “Are you still mad at me? I didn’t mean the thing with Mina… It’s just–”

 

Tzuyu interrupted, needing to know for herself. “Momo unnie, you don’t need to explain. If you love me, then kiss me.”

 

It was a simple request and a simple solution. Or would’ve been, had Momo not hesitated. This afternoon, on her first job, Tzuyu had played with a particular celebrity’s dog imagining raising it with someone. But who was this someone? And likewise, this afternoon, taking a puff of the cigarette, Momo had seen the smoke she exhaled as two dancers. Her and someone else. But who was this someone?

 

***

 

Who was this someone on Jeongyeon’s bed (also known as the couch)? She left the television on full volume on some Japanese medical drama she occasionally gazed to for eye candy but for the most part had her eyes glued to her phone. Yet another mindless game she had to master for the hell of it. This time, it was one with tropical fruits that had to be lined up in rows. Jeongyeon didn’t care what game or drama it was. Mina dreamed of a dream life in Hawaii while Jeongyeon dreamed of a simple home in Korea, a quiet one…one with Nayeon if we dare say. But neither would get what they want for now.

 

“Yah, Mina, do you know how late it is? You woke me from my sleep.”

 

Mina glared, looking up only momentarily as if it say,  _‘That’s what you get for randomly passing out on my bed instead of on the couch.’_ Instead, she stayed wordless. Only her stubborn moody attitude speaking loud and clear. Don’t mess with American boss girl, Sharon Myoui Mina.

 

Jeongyeon knew one single solution to this. She snatched her phone with utmost speed and sat down on her lap. “Well if you won’t back to your bed and leave me with mine in peace, then I guess this is the only way.”

 

”Yoo Jeongyeon!” Mina was about to throw a rarer than diamonds fit had the doorbell not rung. It was followed by a particular knock they both recognized. And just like that, Mina was out of sight, leaving Jeongyeon alone to debate opening the door.

 

“Yoo Jeongyeon!” she heard her name being screamed again. This time, but Nayeon incessantly banging on the door in a drunken stupor.

 

Jeongyeon had been through so much these past couple days. She had ignored Nayeon’s every attempt at reaching her long and hard. And now she was tired, too tired to keep up their games of bereavement. Expounding one sigh after another, she opened the door and Nayeon fell on her. She had always been a horrible drinker. Too lightweight and too ready to pour out her bottle and her heart. Here she was drenched head to toe save a sports jacket she had borrowed from Jeongyeon and never returned. She had it snuggled firmly in her arms, as dry as could be. (It was a waterproof jacket after all that didn’t need Nayeon’s protection, but don’t tell poor drunk and soaking wet Nayeon that.)

 

“Don’t tell me you came all this way just to return my jacket.”

 

Nayeon’s alcoholic hiccups came more frequently as she tried to speak. “Open it, you fool!”

 

Jeongyeon caught her again when she lost for footing a second time. “Come sit down,” she directed her to the couch, still upset at the betrayal but helpless to a sad drunk.

 

Having seated Nayeon down, she unwrapped the jacket just to find the same damn packet of photos Nayeon had tried to show her earlier before she ran out and far away. This time, with Nayeon pushing her on, she opened it. Revealing undisclosed pictures Nayeon had taken of them from the camera Jeongyeon had struggled to find for her on countless occasions. She didn’t get it at first until she saw the little slips of paper Nayeon was discretely holding in each photo. She got it then. It was a puzzle that smarter and deeper than meets the eyes Nayeon had set up for her. To solve this jigsaw, Jeongyeon lined the pictures of in chronological order, following the time stamps. Her heart quenched when she finished. She didn’t have to read it aloud. Nayeon said it for her.

 

“I should’ve told you earlier but…I love you. Like, more than a friend. Way more.” Nayeon was going to fall over, but here she was professing her love senselessly, confident in her stupor. “I had to drink like four bottles to get this confident. I even considered asking Dahyun to do it since she knows of you and your sis–”

 

Jeongyeon wouldn’t let her finish. She would be a crying mess if she did. “Why are you telling me this now?! Now that you’re leaving me.”

 

“I’m not! I’m only working half days! It’s a new,” she hiccupped again, “a new thing they started. I could just work four hours and travel the other four to come back to Seoul to see you, every day. Every single day until you forgive me.”

 

God, Jeongyeon both loved and hated her so much. “You don’t need to explain anymore. If you love me, then kiss me,” she said to the wobbling Nayeon, surprising them both.

 

In the distance, the last train of the night sounded its horn and Nayeon went in to kiss Jeongyeon’s lips and missed. Ending up kissing her cheeks which were more flushed than her own instead. Jeongyeon who wanted sense and order, only laughed, needing nothing but Nayeon’s silliness. “Damn it, Nayeon. Let’s get you cleaned up, and we can talk tomorrow.” But first, even before she drew the water for the shower, she kissed Nayeon everywhere she was wet. Which was all over.

 

***

 

It was all over for Momo. It should’ve been one of her sisters here. She sucked at situations like this. Her dad hadn’t been around often enough to teach her the art of high class social functions. And she couldn’t fake poise and an imposing demeanor like Hana and Sana could. What was she doing here in Sana’s place at the hospital charity auction? If only Sana wasn’t spending every day and night with Dahyun. Momo envied her greatly. Lately her own relationship had been, well…

 

She didn’t have time to finish the thought. The spot next to hers designated for Dr. Myoui’s family was finally filled. And at last, they met. This time, not as strangers on the subway, not as mutual friends of others, not as workers at the same studio, but as two people who were meant to meet all along.   

 

The shock made Momo’s hand wobblier than Nayeon’s intoxicated ones. Infatuation was stronger than alcohol and Momo had way too much of it landing eyes on Mina. Going for a bow while holding her glass, she spilled her wine all over Mina right as Mina apologized for coming late. They both shouted and laughed at the situation. Eyes on them or not. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” With many clumsy apologizes, Momo rushed Mina to the restroom to help her clean up. It could’ve a dark dress Mina was wearing or an old one she didn’t particularly care about. But luck would have it that she was clad in all white, in a dress she had just brought for a fresh start. So she finally accepted Momo’s offer to help her on the fifth-hundredth, “I’m so, so sorry! Let me help you clean that in the restroom.”

 

In the empty marble restroom adorned with tulips, they stood by the sink. In her haste to clean, Momo completely drenched Mina in more water. Had it been another, perhaps Mina would have lost her temper. She had been notably tense all night and day. But with Momo, she laughed hard and often like she had once done long ago for another. “It’s okay,” she kept assuring Momo’s ears that refused to listen. “Momoring,” she found herself calling her that as if they were close, “really, it’s okay. I can just take the dress off.”

 

Momo’s imagination ran wilder than Sana’s, heart palpitating more irregularly in an odd mixture of slow and fast than a combusted engine breathing its last. She knew she was in trouble. She had known since she took that cigarette; the same way Mina had known when she first took hers. Love was deadlier than any substance. Mina would remind her of it yet again.

 

“So you’re Tzuyu’s girlfriend, huh?” Mina reminded her, giving her back her two now seemingly lifeless hands. Momo had been enthralled to the max, forgetting all about this newfound title of hers.

 

“What girlfriend?” Momo mumbled under her breath. “I couldn’t even bring myself to kiss her.”

 

“Pardon?” Mina asked her in Japanese, in her comfortable homey dialect. She was causal and carefree like Momo had never seen her before.

 

Momo shook her head. “Nothing.”

 

Mina turned to the mirror directly behind Momo, adjusting her hair and tying it up naturally gracefully. “You’re so lucky. She’s such a simple and straightforward girl.” She looked at Momo now, smiling so radiantly. She was the beauty Momo saw in the tracks passing by the greenest of landscapes. Mina saw it and recognized it for it was. They were the same tracks and landscapes she had also initially found dazzling until their beauty was robbed from her.

 

However, Mina was wrong about Momo. She was not as easy to read, just as with Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Momo didn’t crave simplicity. She wanted the perplexing messes of love, the hardships of those who had to prove their hearts to each other. A mismatched love that had all the makings of a worthy twisting and winding story. She craved Mina. And so, she did what she couldn’t do with Tzuyu. She kissed Mina.

 

In just a second, she toppled her, clashing her lips down into a more than welcomed kiss. She kissed her wherever she was wet which, with the sink water running and splashing on them, was everywhere. It truly shocked Mina who hadn’t been so moved by anything for quite some time.  _Finally,_  she thought.  _Maybe, finally, at last…_

 

 

* * *

Akskfjskfslk.. I can't even write an Author's Note rn. Please really do let me know what you think!! Also, the next chapter < _A Retelling of Us_ > will have some crucial unseen stuff along with some spicy new content as well!

**Spoilers:**

“Should we go somewhere else together? Somewhere far from here?”

She wanted to say yes again now like she had done years ago.

____ sighed from the distance. She was always watching her fall in love with someone else.

 

 


	14. A Retelling of Us

**_Note:_ ** This chapter is mostly unseen scenes from the past two chapters along with new content, so you might want to skim the previous two chapters if it’s been a while for you. But don’t miss out on this one! ****

* * *

 

 

As of late, the sheer amount of events that have unfolded upon the nine women have been staggering. While impressive, they still have yet to paint a full picture. The nine’s map are of twisting and winding, intertwining, and intervening rail tracks. Simply, or not so simply, putting it, there was no clear start and no clear end. Like Chaeyoung had so aptly observed, trains could go many directions. Who was to say what was the right way and what was the wrong way? For every path led some way or another.

 

Now, one may wonder, are the seats on the railcar facing backwards or was the vehicle going the opposite way of where it should be going? The answer depends on who was asked. And for these reasons and more, things are never as simple as they seem. Let’s not forget we’re hearing nine tales in one after all. To full grasp the complexities of these very real women, we must take the train into our own reins, bending it every which direction. Rewind to remind us of what we’re missing. Let’s take a look at what we have not seen, but in ways already have, shall we?

 

The day of trials and tribulations for Sana (that have been witnessed in the previous couple chapters) started off vaguely optimistic. Inconceivably so, one may say. Bright and early she drew the curtains to the living room, before her meeting with Dahyun’s brother, before her run-in with the other women that day that would bring about her bouts of tears. “Today is going to be a good day,” she inhaled the crisp air to say. It was a fool’s errand it was to convince themselves of the unlikely. That was Sana alright. A woman so clever yet so in love she made a fool of herself with her optimism.

 

Jihyo shook her head, sticking out her scorched tongue. Sana’s roommate on the contrary, was having a tiresome morning. Her coffee was too hot, and her frustrations boiling. She was to meet with Tzuyu today as usual and not as usual, it would be the first day of Tzuyu’s new job. It meant less time for them. Less time for Jihyo to figure it all out. She took one look at the now dirtied coffee maker and let her irritations simmer some more. “Are you always this happy for no reason?” she condemned Sana. Usually, she found comfort in her antics. But again, today was not a usual day.

 

A bountiful smile spreading on her face, Sana came over to hug Jihyo. “What’s up, grumpy?” She kissed her cheeks, not having had enough kissing from her newfound younger lover the other night.

 

Jihyo made a sound of disgust and slipped out of her arms. “Can you please behave? It’s bad enough that I had to remove your make up for you so early in the morning when you come stumbling in drunk in love from Dahyun’s. You’re less mature than my students. If Tzuyu was a one, you’d be a nine in composure,” she commented on Sana’s behavior and lack of responsibility in heat. It was not a good time to cross God Jihyo, or be wary of her furry.  

 

Sana being Sana, only got one thing out of it, and it was not what Jihyo wanted. “There you go again, talking about Tzuyu even when you’re scolding me for I don’t even know what.”

 

There was once a time Jihyo felt guilty for not understanding her foreign roommate, foreign tourist clients, and foreign students in full. Now, she had found a good medium, established a rapport. It didn’t mean that Sana’s straightforward nature didn’t rub her the wrong way now and then. In this occasion especially with her heart on her sleeve being exposed, she fumbled in displeasure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied to herself.

 

A knowing laugh came from Sana as she took Jihyo into her arms again. Jihyo did not resist this time around. “Oh, Jihyo. What will we do with you, you poor thing? If you don’t admit things to yourself, you’ll never be able to move on,” she dared to insinuate. She was not wrong, only missing her marker by an invisible target.   

 

Jihyo partially calmed, melting into Sana’s hug. “You have it wrong. It’s not her.” She enjoyed Sana’s warmth a bit longer, then left. It was time for things to go the way they would.

 

***

 

She would only enjoy Korea’s cold for a bit longer, and then leave. She used to tell Jeongyeon this whenever she asked her how long she planned on staying. Momo had not been truthful, and it all caught up to her that night they were both drunk. Things going the way they had, the anxiety and distress it gave her, only time and new company could make it dissipate. Disappointment had come with the partial calm, but there was Nayeon in Jeongyeon’s place. Ever the faithful roommate and friend in the end after all.

 

Nayeon had walked in on Momo’s morning stretches and brief workout. She glided behind her and continued on with her daily routine. “You’re having a good morning,” she said passingly. Momo tended to keep quiet during her countless sets of pull-ups and other workouts inactive granny Nayeon couldn’t even name. The most exercise Nayeon got in a week was probably just from walking to the train station and back.

 

Momo popped up, radiating in a light sweat, the moisture accentuating her lean yet built figure. “I have a new dance student that my girlfriend introduced me to! I have to make sure I’m in shape.” She realized too late that she had given away too much information and hastily covered her mouth, eyes bulging. To this moment, Nayeon not so much as knew for sure her orientation. Or so she thought.

 

As a matter of fact, it didn’t startle Nayeon at all. She picked out her morning snack casually and ate next to Momo as if nothing had been said. There was much comfort in familiarity. There was only one discomfort. The same one she never let go. And Nayeon voiced it now, tactlessly restless, “Momo, how do you go beyond being just friends with someone?”

 

Hurt from errors of the past so closely tied in with Nayeon’s words, Momo’s body clenched. She looked the part of a silent, overgrown sad child because she was one. “I-I wouldn’t know, Nayeon. I’ve just decided to leave things be as they are. Sometimes you just have to realize that people can’t ever see you the way you see them, you know.”

 

“Then what?” Nayeon edged her on, again too engrossed in her own situation to assess Momo’s sate of being.

 

“Then you move on. Find someone that will accept you.” She shuffled her weights about in excuse not to meet Nayeon’s eyes. She would not be let of easy.

 

Nayeon purposely touched Momo’s sore spot this time, needing her verbal approval to proceed with her day’s plan. “Have  _you_  moved on? Are you okay now?” she headed into murky terrain with her trainload of questions. For Jihyo, it was a painful day for reasons yet to be exposed. For Nayeon, today was her day of reckoning. It could go swell or no where near well. Jeongyeon would be the determining factor in that, but Momo would not be forgotten either.

 

If there was anything Momo learned from Sana, it was to cut to the chase while being chased. She answered plainly, letting the hurt of the past touch her not this time. She met those soft almond eyes, requesting guidance. “You should tell her, Nayeon. I’ll be fine. I’ve been fine.” She wiped her sweat as she spoke, letting the morning’s tension air out. “But you haven’t been. You both haven’t been. I’ve moved on while you two were stagnant.”

 

“ _Stagnant,_ ” Nayeon repeated hollowly, soullessly. She took a breath and nodded to herself. Today was the day then. She would get those pictures and confess to Jeongyeon, proposing a life together with her and more love than any of them had ever known combined. But first, she had to get Momo back for being blunt with her. “Wow, that’s a big Korean word,” she mocked her.

 

Momo rolled her eyes, flexing her damn toned arms in Nayeon’s direction. “I’m smarter than you give me credit for. If I was ranked number eight, you’d be number nine.”

 

“Nooo!” Nayeon complained right away, coming up with a million and one instances where Momo had been less than clever. “Who wore their shirt inside out all day? And who burned their Barbie’s hair trying to straighten it?”

 

Her accusations were countered with instances of her own blunders. “Who left yogurt in the fridge for months after the expiration date and was dumb enough to give it a taste? Who had the driving instructor tell them that they were helpless and would never pass the test?”

 

Their banter went on like this for some time, getting more outrageous and laughable. “Wanna die?” Nayeon challenged Momo when she momentarily ran out of things to say. She put her now empty dishes down and joined Momo on the couch, wanting to put her in a fake choke hold. Momo could easily flip her over instead, so Nayeon didn’t even try.

 

“Yah!” Momo shot back. “You’re really unbelievable,” she half-laughed, half-snorted.

 

“Whatever you say, number nine,” Nayeon refused to let it drop. Rough outside, she laughed softly inside. She loved her, she really did. It was the foundation for trust after all. And what would Nayeon be without her fellow pabo roomie? With Momo, she never had to be alone. Momo was no Jeongyeon. But given all the time they spent together sometimes supporting each other and other times annoying each other playfully, she was a close second. Just not like that. Considering Nayeon’s quick _some_ relationship with Sana, too… Well, let’s just say things could’ve been even stranger and more complicated than they are now.

 

***

 

Jihyo downed one shot of flavored soju after another in the pocha/Korean pub, ignoring the Korean pancakes she had ordered. She was all alone. Things were even more complicated and stranger now than ever before between Jihyo and Tzuyu. They weren’t anywhere remotely close to being Nayeon and Jeongyeon in all their intimate complexities, but they were loving. Lovingly hesitant and silent just like two new acquaintances or two former lovers seeing each other on opposite sides of the track, wondering if motioning to the other across the glass would bring about repercussions.

 

Had Jihyo been home, the repercussions would have been the greatest of all. Had she been home, aside from overhearing Sana and Dahyun’s many… _love confessions_ , she would have probably tossed her laptop out in a silly rage. Her morning of contemplating telling Tzuyu had been rough. Too rough. Had she been more attentive, she would have noticed that she left her Facebook open on the browser. On it, a picture of her as a tour guide to a very specific group of tourists in particular – Tzuyu’s extended family. Tzuyu probably had seen it. She must have had. Jihyo expelled gruffly and tossed more alcohol down her throat. She had more to mourn over than the potential loss of Tzuyu. She had already lost more before. Much more.

 

She thought back then to another day with Sana. “I can’t believe I never saw Nayeon in this picture of you and Jeongyeon!” she exclaimed, holding up the framed memorabilia, gazing at it for some time. Likely how Tzuyu examined the picture of her family on Jihyo’s laptop with great scrutiny while Jihyo was out of the room.

 

“You only see what you want to see,” Jihyo had shrugged and said.

 

Sana smiled delectably like the constant joyous wonder she was. Then, she gave unexpected words of wisdom, for a happy-go-lucky beam of energy need not be an airhead. “If only you can hear yourself saying that,” she said into the air. There was no way she could’ve known the extent of Jihyo’s struggles. But she knew Jihyo.

 

And here sat Jihyo, filled with grievances she couldn’t voice. She decided to drink herself to sleep that night. A sleep of wonders like Rip Van Winkle’s where she’d wake up years from now, after all the mess had settled, after everyone had moved on. Had they really though? She was here instead of at  _her_  place, wasn’t she? Jihyo was a coward with the affixed title of an instructor and leader, a baby cub in its deceased alpha parent’s skin. She was afraid to leave her side, and also afraid not to.

 

Vocal instructor Jihyo, personal mentor Jihyo, elder sister Jihyo… It was all names she couldn’t live up to just like the name Jihyo itself. Somewhere inside, little Jisoo just wanted to be the young and well-adored only child again. She wanted all that affection and care without condition once more. Just as she asked for this, the clock turned to eleven-eleven and Nayeon strolled into the same pub for the same reasons.

 

“Jisoo?” a glum and gloomy Nayeon let out by the slip of the tongue. She had already sat down next to her before she could say a word.

 

“Nayeon unnie,” Jihyo put on an almost tipsy slurred laugh and smile. She was already hazy and rocking in tiny circles.

 

“Careful, don’t drink so carelessly all alone,” she cautioned, taking the shot from Jihyo. It was hard liquor. Nayeon at her best state wouldn’t fair well with it. She couldn’t picture little Jisoo downing the stuff, little Jisoo who couldn’t so much ask for a replacement fork for the one she had dropped and had to ask Nayeon to do it for her. Yet here they were.

 

Jihyo snatched the cup back. “It’s too late to parent me now. You should’ve done that years ago before just leaving me all alone with all of them.” She took out her days labors to any listening ear, wanting to hurt instead of being hurt.

 

Nayeon had no fighting response this time. She had already spent all her emotions crying over Jeongyeon running out on her after she told her about her going away. First Jeongyeon’s accusations of betrayals and now Jihyo’s. “That’s right. It’s all my fault.” She asked for another glass and joined in on Jihyo’s sad drinking party.

 

Then, she remembered. “You weren’t all alone though. For a while…for a good few years, you had  _her_  didn’t you?” Nayeon recalled it now. She wouldn’t have left her Jisoo companyless. There was already a new Japanese dance instructor duo at JYPE more than capable of filling her and Jeongyeon’s roles to Jisoo. From what she could remember, Jisoo was particularly fond of one of them too.

 

Jihyo huffed sarcastically. “Yeah, sure.” She clank her now water-filled glass with Nayeon’s peach flavored booze and told the simple truth. “She’s gone. Long gone.” Today was the anniversary of that. “Besides,” Jihyo attempted to redirect the conversation away from her, “we were never like you and Jeongyeon. She already had someone else for that.”

 

Nayeon jeered, the alcohol hitting her more than the pellets of the in-coming storm brewing outside had. “There is no me and Jeongyeon. We’re not a unit. We’re not…anything.” She poured herself another full shot after Jihyo had stopped herself. Jihyo knew her limits, while Nayeon chose to ignore hers today. She didn’t want some peaceful sleep, she wanted the full blackout. The messy throwing up, the stumbling in the rain, the soaking wet mess she’d leave all over her apartment. It had been in those bleakest of hours that Jeongyeon would come save her, take the embarrassment and pain away.

 

“What are you talking about? You two have always been a thing,” Jihyo insisted. “What were the point of those pictures then? The little love notes you had for her?”

 

Nayeon held the packet of photos closer to her chest. They were her little secret that had somehow been exposed. A pair of lovers on an elegant train being caught in the act. “How did you–?”

 

Jihyo beat her own chest proudly. “I’m God Jisoo, remember?” She then laughed with a sample of joy for a change. “Oh, I forgot. It’s God Jihyo now.” A God or not, any tipsy person could make a blunder like riding the wrong train or even forgetting their own name.

 

Nayeon smiled and sighed. Once, Jeongyeon had gone by a different name, too. Jihyo had shed her name to make a new self, same as Jeongyeon. Identities were like that, changing and remaining unchanged at the same time. Her decision to take a guaranteed job had been characteristic of her after all. She feared failure, yet she wanted to change and challenge herself. She thought Jeongyeon who often lamented about her job would get it. But they were one and the same, all of them. Loving the idea of a fresh start, only to find out they weren’t the most well-equipped to pull through with it. She would tell Jihyo her story in short that night. It was better all out than all in.

 

“What are you still doing here in her jacket and with all those photos?” a sobering up Jihyo asked after their story time. “Go to her.” She took a long look at a disheveled Nayeon in Jeongyeon’s favorite jacket and pitied her. She had her heart on her sleeve in every which way. “Say sorry,” Jihyo instructed, resuming her hard-found authority and confidence. “And do whatever you couldn’t do with Sana while you two had that brief  _some_  relationship, because you couldn’t stop thinking about Jeongyeon.”

 

Nayeon spit out a bit of her drink, the soju slipped down her chin like a waterfall of exposed sins. “God, Sana can’t keep her mouth shut about anything, can she?!” Nayeon ordered another bottle. She’d need much more red flush to hide her scarlet blush, and even more than that to approach Jeongyeon. She took yet another shot against Jihyo’s advice not too and held both her hands. She was her first kid, she wouldn’t forget that.  “What about you? Shouldn’t you go to _her?_ I have Jeongyeon’s jacket and all these photos, but what about you? You have _her_ umbrella and all those memories you never talk about.”

 

She was right. They both were. And so, Nayeon stumbled her way to Jeongyeon’s and Jihyo to the cemetery that night. By the time Jihyo had told Mina to get a move on with her life, handing her the umbrella she wanted so badly but no longer need, Mina had had only one thing to say back: “You’re right. I shouldn’t be living for  _her_. But what about you? Are you leaving this umbrella behind for good?”

 

***

 

She left her for better or for worse. Momo had slipped out of Tzuyu bed in shame and called a taxi home in the darkest of the night. She couldn’t do it after all. She couldn’t kiss her. They both knew it. So why bother pushing on? Their’s had been a puppy love of puppies and all things dogs. It was a silly weekend fling sort of thing bound to be overlapped by a deeper love’s push through and through.

 

There was no hard feelings when she left, only a cold empty space needing to be filled. And a lonelier Tzuyu needed company. “Chaeng, I know you’re not asleep,” she tried to sound tough when in reality she was pleading it was so.

 

Chaeyoung stirred, also wanting the relieve of a night’s sleep. She thought of her going to get Tzuyu from work and Momo staying behind to chat up Mina. It should have been the opposite way around. Everything happened in reverse, it seemed. Or were they going forward and she still trapped going the opposite way? She wasn’t sure of anything except one thing.

 

Chaeyoung sighed. She was always watching Mina fall in love with someone else whether Mina herself realized it or not. And that was the great thing about Mina; she loved so many without realizing it. Falling hard and never voicing it.  _That fool,_  Chaeyoung that.  _No, I’m the one that’s a fool._  She tossed her covers aside. She didn’t want to berate herself much more tonight. Joining Tzuyu in bed would surely make them both feel better.

 

“Sorry for listening in,” Chaeyoung apologized for being there. For being helpless as things unraveled themselves around her. She was helpless to it all. “Are you okay?” Was either of them okay? Surely Tzuyu had seen it all and surmised the mess in whole. She was much sharper than she let on.

 

Tzuyu tucked Chaeyoung in, careful to pull the covers down a bit lower for her short friend. She gave Chaeyoung no direct answer. So they laid there for minutes waiting to turn into an hour before Tzuyu found her words. “Chaeng, what if we were both wrong?”

 

“About what?”

 

“What if all this nothingness really adds up to something? What if every meaningless thing means something? What if we’re all living for something and we just don’t realize what yet? Makes you think doesn’t it?” philosopher Tzuyu questioned. She had much of herself left to explore and so few to do it with.

 

Chaeyoung kept her silence in turn.  _You might have a point_ , her silence seemed to say. She then thought of her family, of Mina, and of more…

 

Tzuyu pulled closer. “Maybe we just have to find what makes us most happy.  _Who_  makes us most happy.”

 

Was it a muffled sob Chaeyoung just heard in her voice? She couldn’t be sure.

 

“Who are you thinking of?” Tzuyu repeated a question Chaeyoung had asked her back to her.

 

Chaeyoung smirked, knowingly. “You,” she teased her.

 

***

 

Mina couldn’t think of anyone else. Not with Jeongyeon and Nayeon teasing each other so loudly in the restroom. Had she been Jihyo, she would’ve gone out for the night to a pub. She wasn’t Jihyo. Homebody Mina had nowhere else to go. This was her safe space apart from the long-yearned for Hawaiian beaches she may wait an eternity more to see. She gripped her phone hard in her hand, wishing it would crumble away like sand. Maybe she would leave soon after all. She had loved a vanished train, and she now loved a train that was soon to be someone else’s. Maybe it was time she found her own and go far, far away.

 

Then, a message came through for her right at eleven-eleven. Like an invitation to the Polar Express, it was a message from her mom asking her to take her dad’s place at some charity auction.  _‘Doctor Hirai’s daughter will be there too,’_  the text message read. Mina had no misgivings. Sana was quite a character and Mina could use another friend. She accepted with content, wanting to try something new, just never thinking that something would be Hirai Momo.

 

She saw her from afar that auction night, struggling with her cutlery. Had her dress not been all black, Mina was sure the steak sauce and juice would have been all over it. Mina let out a quiet laugh of disbelief. More pleased than anything. The next course was to be pasta and Mina couldn’t leave Momo to her lonesome without a single friend to help her. She walked over to her then, finding her spot to be next to hers where it had always been left unfilled until now.

 

Life made as much sense as it didn’t. Mina had ridden the movie depiction of the _Polar Express_ with its many diversions, from catastrophes to ghosts and forgotten children, just to be here. This stop for believers only. And she herself still didn’t know if she believed. At least not until Momo kissed her so unexpectedly on the lips. And she kissed her back. Finally believing in her own chance at happiness. In the chance of love and magic.

 

“Should we go somewhere else together? Somewhere far from here?” Momo offered her, tempting her with those sweet words. Mina bit down on Momo’s lips instead of her own. A moment of silence, and a moment lost in the moment. She wanted to say yes again now like she had done years ago. Could she though?

 

 

 

* * *

If you read [_my other fic_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271852?view_full_work=true) you’ll see what I did there lol. So much to edit and add to this chapter, but I’ll get to it later.

 

_Things to happen next chapter:_

Mina and Momo skipping steps as they skip steps ;)

2yeon?

Talk time with Eunha and Sana + Dahyun and Kyulkyung?

And more~

 

 


	15. Love Is...

 

She could smell the tonic and toxic scent. Chinese herbal medicine being brewed in an alternative medicine clinic in the buzzing Seoul center. How strange it was, and how homey. Walking down the street, she was but a weary train traveler of the days of old, finding comfort in the familiar scent of boiler smoke everywhere she went. It made poor Tzuyu tear up in public in one of her rare outbursts. She had been holding in a lot. And it threatened to seethe out now more bitter than the tad of alcohol she had tried one time with Chaeyoung.

 

It made her sick. It all made her sick like the dogs that always made _her_ sick. Tzuyu remembered it more vividly than any romantic film she’d silently cried over. She who had learned love from movies had learned her own love could be so plain, so undressed; she was naked to the truth. The truth that she had lost before she had won. A small dog passing by on its leash reminded her of her day spent chasing a mammoth of a dog through the station, leash-less and wild like she had once been with Momo.

 

“So cute!” they had said in union that day before it all went downhill. _Was it the neighbor’s dog they were talking about or each other?_ she had wondered. With a face that could not be read unlike the blatant lost in love faces of heroines Tzuyu looked up to, she pet her neighbor’s dog. Her hand ran along the smooth, plentiful fur. She had plenty of love to give, and when her hand ran into Momo’s they stayed for the while. It was in that elongated second that the unchained dog ran free along with Tzuyu and Momo’s heart.

 

“Quick!” Tzuyu reached for Momo’s hand again, pulling her through the crowd. When they bumped into some woman knocking down her flowers, they had later laughed about it so carelessly though they should’ve been more tactful in retrospect. It was the simplest of loves, and the loveliest. When Momo subsequently fell sick from either exertion or dog allergies combined with seasonal changes, Tzuyu had nursed her back to health. With the disgusting yet calming taste of a Chinese herbal brew and all.  So in pain, there was joy. In everyone’s newfound love was another’s heartbreak. Perhaps that was love: pain and joy, joy and pain.    

 

“Tzuyu is so cute!” _she_ had muttered one time in the cutest English in her sick restless sleep. “Why is the girl I love so cute?” Tzuyu who had laughed and flushed over that memory time and time again now found herself tearing up even more over it. The memory she loved most had become a grain of salt lodged in her open wound. She had always said to persistent suitors that she was too young to love. It was a lie. Tzuyu was not too young to know love. She was too young to be hurt by it.

 

Scorn, she wanted to leap from the edge of the sidewalk where she was waiting at a red light in an empty intersection. She wanted to break all the rules. Maybe if she had officially made her her girlfriend earlier. Maybe if she had taken that leap of faith. (The same one that Mina couldn’t do, or rather, had attempted too late. The one that Nayeon had done in the nick of time…) Tzuyu wanted to do it now. Become the rebel Mina had become. She would start off small. She would jaywalk to the other side and chop off all her hair at the closest barber shop she could find. So she extended a foot, so ready to take off.

 

Small arms suddenly wrapped around her, holding her still. Keeping her warm and safe while the man in front of her was stopped by the hidden police car for crossing on the red light. Someone had come to her rescue. A small someone.

 

***

  

It was that small girl again, Nayeon had thought the morning before her failed attempted confession. Was she here to rescue her butt again? ‘Cause Nayeon sure didn’t finish the assigned reading yet. Who knew _Romeo and Juliet_ could be such an Old English bore and incomprehensible without so many damn footnotes? How could Nayeon even attempt to understand it when her own life was drama worthy material full of its own perplexities? It wasn’t as magical and sweet like candy like Mia Thermopolis’s life had become in _The Princess Diaries_ , but hopefully you’ll agree with me that it still made for quite the read. Nayeon had her head in the air, an adult who still couldn’t get her way. Chaeyoung seemed leaps and bounds ahead of her by comparison. Like an older woman she’d have to illegally leap across the tracks for just to keep up with.

 

Chaeyoung could rant for hours about any one single passage in their book club meetings and Nayeon was in awe every single time. So much insight in such a young and small package. She loved it. She loved her wisdom just as she loved Jeongyeon’s. She loved her tough philosophy on love just as she loved Jeongyeon’s. Today in particular, Chaeyoung was crusading against _Romeo and Juliet._ “It doesn’t deserve to be a classic. Definitely the most overrated piece of… Anyways, why did they both have to die like it’s some bad fanfiction or drama? They couldn’t both be more smart and patient with each other?”

 

“Maybe love is timing!” someone interjected.

 

Chaeyoung took them down in two seconds. “Love isn’t some train schedule. Love is love. It’s wild and free, untimely and untamable. If I love someone, I’d tell them, but not be that stupid about it if things don’t go my way. You don’t have to die for someone. Even if they’re dead, you need to go on living for yourself. It’s stupid living in memories of what could’ve been. You just have to keep moving, keep chugging forward.”

 

Nayeon wanted to give her a standing ovation. _Gawd, she’s so worldly,_ the elder thought of the younger. She made up her mind then. She would do it for sure. She would tell Jeongyeon, and if all went terribly then well, at least she wouldn’t be stupid like Chaeyoung chided Romeo and Juliet for.

 

And that’s how it came to be that she woke up on the couch, snuggling Jeongyeon, dressed in her clothes. Instinctively, she reached for her ears to remove the earrings she usually forgot and left in, in her drunkenness. They were gone, neatly taken out and placed on the table by Jeongyeon. That was Jeongyeon for you. Always easing her burdens, making her oh so comfortable in her arms. Then the realization came to her. The small hands on her waist, the soft breath on her neck that made the spots left from the shower last night sore… She gasped.

 

“You’re up,” Jeongyeon said to her softly. Plain and naked, like they had been the night before. It was phenomenal how much could be conveyed by sloppy kisses alone. Once before, Jeongyeon had woken up from a night like this regretting everything because it had been with the wrong person. Now, she had only one thing to ask. “Do you regr–’

 

Nayeon hugged her to silence her. She hugged her tighter and tighter, until she couldn’t anymore. She wanted to cry in her arms, letting out the years of unsaid words. She had finally revealed her utmost secret, a Mia telling her friends she was in fact a princess. Only, it was much more severe. Imagine Mia telling her goofy best friend she was in love with her. And even wilder, her best friend reciprocating. “No matter what, you’ll always be my best friend first. So don’t even worry about it,” she reassured her first. Then she went on, “Even after we have a whole soccer team of adorable pageant kids, if you piss me off I’ll come at you like you’re just my friend Yoo Jeongyeon.”

 

“What even?!” Jeongyeon laughed, speechless. It was wild how fast love could find you, especially if it had always been there. The first step in love was opening oneself up to it. She had been so closed off from it all for too long. Perhaps worse than Mina even in this regard. And now all she wanted was to embrace it, to embrace Nayeon some more. They had cried in each other’s arms plenty, and perhaps now finally they could laugh in them.

 

“Let’s go. Let’s get away from here. Take one last trip with everyone,” Nayeon suggested a sweet escape. It was her own escape from this still strange and somewhat awkward situation as well. She could never talk about romance seriously with Jeongyeon. One time Nayeon had asked her if she’d save Mina or her first if they were both drowning, and Jeongyeon had said she’d drown with Nayeon… It was so absurd, Nayeon almost laughed to herself as the genius vacation plan stemming from it came to her.

 

“And go where? We don’t have much time before you have to leave, do we?”

 

“Somewhere close-ish but with warm water and warm hearts. Somewhere like–”

 

“What? Hawaii?” Jeongyeon laughed.

 

“No, like Busan. Haeundae.”

 

There was a short pause then a quick peck on Nayeon’s forehead. “Oh, sure,” Jeongyeon agreed, snuggling Nayeon some more. Never wanting to let go or she may be too embarrassed to take her back into her arms. Right now she just wanted to be her same-aged lover, not her younger best friend.

 

It was like this that Mina found them. So cozy and in love, she ran from it, dashing out of the apartment in record time. Running from love seemed to be her specialty. Her phone went off again, and to stop her tears, she picked it up. Expecting it to be her mom reprimanding her for her long absences, she found her friend from Japan’s heightened voice instead. “Mina, it’s been ages!” she whined as her first words to her in some time. “Did you see my snap video? It’s the last of the cherry blossoms! You’re missing out!“

 

Ah yes. Another year of missing the blossoms. What could Mina say to her friends as they aged with the seasons, finding love like it was in full bloom? This friend in particular had studied in her long-dreamed of Hawaii, embracing the strangeness of the English language, the embrace of an American boyfriend. Things Mina often wished she had gone for instead of this cold, cold Seoul life. Mina had seen them all, all the snap videos of her friends and their foreign boyfriends teaching each other cuss words in their respective languages, trying different clubs, smoking different countries’ hooka. What a life she could but also couldn’t imagine for herself. Mina wanted to a drunkard’s sweet forgetfulness and carefree nature, but she wasn’t much of a drinker. She wanted a sip of the pipe but she wasn’t much of a hooka person. Not to mention that was _very_ illegal here. And perhaps there was reason for her to stay after all. Something holding her here besides her lost loves. She just didn’t know what yet. But she ran towards it with ever step, running towards the charity dinner.   

 

***

 

Momo didn’t know where it was that they were running towards. Where they were going with this all, but she trusted Mina. Even as she took her down to a narrow creek under some little known bridge where there was no one but them. It was like a scene from a movie or an idol group’s pictorial. Slippery stone steps leading across a lively manmade body of water, perfect for one lover to lead another across.

 

Mina had been her before. Last winter with Jeongyeon. She was barely dressed for the occasion, needing Jeongyeon to warm her hands up with her hot breathe. “I miss the cherry blossoms,” Mina had sighed to her. “As soon as they come, they’re already gone.”

 

“You’re a couple seasons behind, Myoui,” Jeongyeon had laughed at her, cupping her bare hands with her gloved ones. “You have to enjoy what’s here while it’s still here.”

 

The memory pestered Mina. Pestered her so that she ran ahead of Momo, crossing before her. She shouldn’t let Jeongyeon enter her mind with Momo right here. And just like that, her thoughts shifted. She became warmer instantaneously. The memory of the hot kiss doing wonders on her. She looked away from Momo to trace her lips, beaming. “If you can’t be with someone you love, then look for those who love you,” her friend had offered her as unexpected advice. But what was love anyways? Tzuyu had never bothered to ask Chaeyoung knowing she didn’t know herself. Nayeon and Jeongyeon and Sana and Dahyun had found the answers in each other. As for Mina, as for Mina….   

 

“Are you okay?” a fretful but not peevish Momo worked up the courage to ask. She had gone back to her normal state. Jittery and not at all confident in front of Mina. How dumb of her to accidentally ask her out like this! In Momo’s simple thinking, they could both go for some air, to dry out their clothes and whatnot. But the more she thought about it, the more date-like and suggestive her asking Mina out had seemed.

 

“I don’t know. I feel like everything’s been happening so fast...” Mina voiced her rarely voiced insecurity. She hated skipping ahead in books, in shows, in life. And here she was skipping across smooth stone steps with a practical stranger she had just kissed.

 

Momo struggled to catch up, taking bigger and bolder steps than necessary. She had no qualms about it either. She’d always go the extra step for Mina. “Can we start over then?” she pleaded. She was a rookie coming in late for her first day after missing the first train. She badly wanted the do over.

 

Mina who had been stuck in place for so long didn’t know a restart or redo. Life was no game and it only left her questioning, “How so?”

 

It was simple to Momo. She moved on and on, dancing away her worries and awkwardness. Eagerly, she extended her hand for a handshake, saying what she had longed to say at last. “Hi. I’m sorry for randomly saying hi, but I had to because there’s just something so familiar about you.”

 

To this witty new start, Mina gave a witty response back. “Thanks. I love being told I look generic.”

 

“ _NO!_ I mean-” Momo stuttered, rambling on in her own made up language. It was a miracle that Mina understood Momonese. There was that chime-like generous laugh that always had Momo speechless. Or rather more speechless than before in front of the ever impressive Mina.

 

“I’m Mina,” Mina shook her hand firmly, warmly, with an even warmer smile.

 

Stunned, Momo replied back. “I’m nice to meet you!”

 

They stood in silence. A fool and a bigger one until they both burst into laughter. Mina couldn’t remember laughing this hard in a million years. On her end, Momo felt like she had waited a million years for this, for Mina to recognize her. After all, a woman like Mina was truly one in a million. She wanted to tell her how beautifully genuine and kind she is, how strong she is for staying; things Momo thought she’d probably heard a million times but actually never had. All that and more. But for now, as a truck backed up somewhere close to them all she could utter was, “Do you want to go get ice cream?”

 

Mina smiled, playful and never scornful. “Only if you’re paying for ruining my dress.”

 

As they walked out hand-in-hand with a new flavor of ice cream to try and cherish, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu walked in for strawberry shakes holding hands. Both pairs chatted away, carefree travelers finding a nice spot to stay for a while. Somewhere to rest their weathered hearts until the blooming blossoms they had missed would come once more. They had nothing but one question in mind: _What is love?_ And the more they thought about it, the more they were sure it was right in front of them.

 

 

* * *

 ****So I'm feeling some sort of way rn lolol... Lmk what you think of the update~

Sorry I've been gone but _SOOO_ much has happened!! I finnnnaaally got into a Twice fansign and interacted with all of them, Chaeyoung used the bday hat I gave her to celebrate her bday, and Mina even knows and remembers me irl now!!! Check out my [_YouTube_](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC374QLUjyoPaqaaPft86EVg/videos) and _[Twitter](http://twitter.com/twicett520)_ for much more XD

 

**Random spoilers for the next update:**

“So let me get this straight: you invited Jihyo who invited Tzuyu, I invited Chaeyoung who invited Dahyun, and Mina invited Momo… And we all know each other?!”

“You changed your hair!”

“I think I can forget now,” she said.

“I know everything.”

"I'm Momo's _other_ sister. Hana."

 


	16. Getting Better, Or So It’d Seem

 

Nayeon never thought things would work out so splendidly, so spontaneously, so superperfectly. She was in such a high; she was inventing words and didn’t care. She was a Dr. Seuss with his pipe, dreaming of all that was to come on some kooky wonky train meant for her and Jeongyeon primarily. But the lines of friendship and love were still rails Nayeon had issues laying down. So instead, she laid her head on her best friend’s shoulder. Again, taking out her toils on her as an unnie, as a friend.

 

“Public school isn’t that much better from hagwons, you know. I know I used to complain about hagwons’ entitled kids all the time, all the spoiled kids who know they’ll pass automatically anyways. They’re so dependent on others doing their work for them that they can’t even think for themselves half the time… But public school is like that, too. Plus, public school has its stupid rules and regulations that ended up giving kids half-assed English books and curriculum that really limit what teachers can teach,” Nayeon could go on and on analyzing the faults of her prospective employers. She stopped half way, hearing Jeongyeon yawn. She had tried her earnest to keep a tuned ear, but she could never fully understand or be as passionate about it was Nayeon. 

 

“Sorry,” Jeongyeon apologized anyways.

 

Nayeon shook her head, finally getting to what really worried her most. “What if they don’t like me out there? Then I’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere with no friends or family,” she sighed so deeply her body quivered, needing Jeongyeon’s ever-standing support.

 

Jeongyeon pushed Nayeon back up on the couch they had yet to move away from even hours later. How comfy they had gotten. She laughed gently saying, “Well, based on what Sana and Jihyo and everyone else have said, you are hard to open up to–”

 

“That’s only because…” Nayeon stopped herself short. Because she could never open herself up fully to anyone. Anyone except Jeongyeon. After all, all these years she had one biggest secret: she loved and could not say it. _She_ was the person she cared most about, yet she couldn’t voice it. Until now. She flushed a crisper red than Chaeyoung’s bold lipstick, hiding her face to finish saying, “They’re not you.”

 

Somewhere between choking and coughing, Jeongyeon hid a smile, shoving Nayeon off the couch in a bashful paramour’s embarrassment. As friends, such a push would’ve caused a scuffle, rough playing. As newly confessed loves…well, that was something that seemed constant. Nayeon jumped on her swiftly, her big hands smothering Jeongyeon’s face, yelling at her to apologize.

 

And then it hit them. The shyness of a new couple accidentally touching up on each other. The skinship blazing their already heated flesh. They hastily cleared their throats, looking away. Looking anywhere to avoid another. How silly they’d look to any casual observer.

 

Feeling a growing strain and tension, Jeongyeon spoke first. “Are you going to get off me, Im Nayeon?”

 

Nayeon jumped off faster than stun men escaping from the furry of bullet trains in full throttle. Though Jeongyeon still stayed on top in her mind. She shifted gears. “What about you though? I haven’t heard anything about that new job in a while.”

 

Jeongyeon shrugged, going to the kitchen to make a quick traditional dish. How hard could making kimchi pancakes be? “They want me to put on wigs at the shoots to be more masculine. I don’t even know if I’m a girl or a guy model anymore.”

 

Big arms wrapped around her, pulling her in until they squished her like an anaconda. “You’re my girl,” Nayeon whimpered in the highest aegyo voice she could manage.

 

“All right, get out the kitchen!”

 

Nayeon wouldn’t budge. “I know you think I’m always kidding, that I can’t be taken seriously. But I’m serious, Yoo Jeongyeon. I’d do anything for you. Even call you _‘unnie’_ if that’s your kin-“

 

“Ahhh!!” Jeongyeon hollered at the pan to drone out Nayeon. Strange how moments so pivotal could seem so playful and light.

 

The other day when Nayeon had whined that her slightly older friends were already settling down, trading in their current identity to become so-and-so’s mom, Jeongyeon had wanted to say the same. She had wanted to say that she’d never be ‘so-and-so’s mom’ to her. She would always be Im Nayeon. _Her Im Nayeon._ To think that she would beat her to saying it was unthinkable. Then again, so was all of this. It was too sudden and too good to be true. It left them both fearing how’d they continue from here? Could they make it last?

 

***

 

Could she say it at last? Tzuyu pondered watching Jihyo preoccupy herself in her kitchen to avoid looking at her. She couldn’t. Tzuyu has seen it all before. She and Chaeyoung had both snuck around each other, avoiding talk until it almost pulled them apart for good. As of yesterday, though, they had set the record straight. Saying all there was to say to each other, having the deepest of conversations in a Baskin Robbins.

 

“I can’t help falling for one tough…person after another,” Chaeyoung had sighed to her, downing her strawberry shake like it was alcohol. She even let out a content _‘aahh’_ and whipped her lips of the cream. What a child trying to be an adult all too quick.

 

Tzuyu had laughed at Chaeyoung who had always called her a child despite the mere three months age difference between them. Chaeyoung’s self-proclaimed wisdom in her significant elderly age or whatever B.S. she’d try to sell to others, Tzuyu saw through it all. They weren’t so different. They had more alike than anyone else she could think of. “I keep falling for unnies who are more childish than us, too,” she said the words Chaeyoung couldn’t that day. “Maybe that’s just how we cope.”

 

Chaeyoung of yesterday bit her lower lip. Her secrets exposed so casually by Tzuyu who saw nothing between them as secret at all. She was quick to cheer up, realizing the younger was right in all her words this time, more so than deep thinker Chaeyoung could have thought of before. “A toast then,” Chaeyoung offered up her shake in celebration.

 

“To?” Tzuyu had asked.

 

“To all of us, for being in this crazy, stupid thing called love.”

 

And that was that.

 

Any healthy relationship was based on steady communication, and lately, Jihyo hadn’t been initiating any of it. Tzuyu would have to do it for her. “I know everything,” she said abruptly though not unkind. Jihyo froze, and Tzuyu went on. Taking courage from her talk with Chaeyoung, she spoke the truth she long speculated and now knew. “You never took money from my mom or anything. She offered you to befriend me for the job and some side cash, but you never accepted.” She came over to her mentor, willing her to turn to look at her. “You never did anything wrong, so why can’t you face me?”

 

 _Chou Tzuyu, oh Chou Tzuyu._ Jihyo turned to her with the visage of a tearful lost lover shouting out into the icy void. “I-I didn’t think I could explain everything to you. I didn’t know if you’d trust me.”

 

She hugged her hard, harder than she had hugged anyone ever besides Chaeyoung. “Of course I trust you!” She was her teacher, her friend, her sister. In all her life, Tzuyu had only a handful of close friends. She couldn’t make it if Jihyo wasn’t on that short list. It would devastate her so.

 

 _You shouldn’t,_ Jihyo though, hating herself some more. There was so much she kept concealed. She blamed herself for Nayeon and Jeongyeon leaving JYPE, for not being brave enough herself to stay and pull through until debut, for…for...something else she could never say. An embrace so sweet on her lonesome body tempted her to house her house of sins for another day. She kept a fake mute’s silence and turned to hug Tzuyu back. Forgiveness from others was easy. Forgiveness from yourself was not. A million regrets washed over her, weathering her hardened exterior. She so wished it was her that night on the train instead. Perhaps  _she_  would have never gone missing. If only Jihyo hadn’t done what she had done.

 

Knowing none of this, Tzuyu smiled on. She’d long forgotten her cold front, ushering in the warm spring instead. The blossoms may be long gone, but Tzuyu continued to bloom. An impressionable tender youth, still too trusting, too loving. One time, Jihyo had played _Sweeney Todd_ in class and everyone was fearful and disgusted while Tzuyu wept. Wept like a baby. She could find love and beauty in any situation. Still a young girl finding what love is through books and movies, while her same-aged friends like Chaeyoung had already discovered with certainty what love was not.

 

“Thank you, Tzuyu,” was all Jihyo could muster.

 

“Teacher,” Tzuyu began. She would give Jihyo and easy way out again, changing the topic before it could get Chaeyoung level deep.

 

“You can call me by my name, you know,” Jihyo smiled, handing her some peeled peaches, nicely plated and all. 

 

Tzuyu nodded in acknowledgment, then reverted to her playful, happy self. “My boss offered to take me on a family vacation with her. An archery trip!”

 

Getting over her spontaneity quickly, laughing it off as a child’s quirk, Jihyo genuinely felt happy for her. “That’s awesome!” If only she knew who the person offering that trip was.

 

“But I don’t want to go,” Tzuyu confessed.

 

“Why not?”

 

“You’re going on a trip with your family, right?” she played with Jihyo’s hand absentmindedly. “Take me with you.”

 

Jihyo’s heart froze. Not because she wanted to say no, but because how much she wanted she shout, _“Yes!”_ and take Tzuyu on a trip of a lifetime with her. Far from the tracks of the last station, far from where her worries and fears had killed her young first love yet to blossom. Never to blossom and only wilt.

 

***

 

She felt like a raw peach, plated and ready to be served right here and now in this dance studio. To be devoured by the cutest of specimens. _God,_ the things that Mina did to her by doing absolutely nothing at all. “You changed your hair!” Momo blurted out. _No dip, stupid,_ she reprimanded herself. If Jihyo could rank everyone she knew, she’d put Tzuyu at number one in terms of wittiness and overall put-togetherness, while Momo would put herself at a dead last place. She hated it, hated being so brash and silly all the time in front of all of Mina’s poised splendor.

 

Extra mild and feeling anew in her bangs that came down to the same level at Momo’s, Mina didn’t notice a thing wrong with the world. “Thanks,” she smiled to her a bit too sweet for Momo to take.

 

Momo had to look away, avoiding accidentally confessing how shaken up she was. In her haste, her phone in its oversized case slipped through her hands. Mina caught it in the nick of time, giving a twirl through the air. She handed it back daintily in a ballerina-eque movement. Momo let the words she’d yearn to say slip, “I really wish you’d dance again. I’d love to have you as my partner…my dance partner.”

 

Mina really wished she hadn’t said it. The smiled melted off her face the same as metal being melted into engine parts, hot and angry, with a sip of sadness so well-contained now it seemed imperceptible. She had debated it to herself for many nights now. Could the newfound casual happiness she had with Momo wash away all her misery? What would she say if Momo was to stir any of those memories up? She had worked so hard to restrain them these past few days, going out with Momo constantly, laughing her gummy laugh, running her tongue past her sharp tooth, looking away when her feelings before this silly girl became too intense. She avoided the dating zone that was her apartment complex, not allowing herself to see Jeongyeon and Nayeon in each other’s arms. That was another raw wound she did not permit herself to explore nor let heal, being more stubbornly childish and closed-off than a girl bordering on adulthood.

 

The tightly closed capsule that was Mina only had half-truths for Momo. “The past was in the past. I think I can forget now,” she said stiffly, unkindly, and hurried back to the reception desk, alone and forever in waiting of who knows what.

 

Chaeyoung observed the entire fallout from the corner where she had been changing into her dance clothes. She despised them both. Momo because she had let Tzuyu go so abruptly, so carelessly. Mina because…because Chaeyoung still could not let her go. How could Momo move on so quick while Chaeyoung still lingered over Mina, watching her every breath? She simply didn’t have the experience to grasp the full capacity of love. It could be as deep as oceans or as shallow as a drizzle’s puddles. It could be quick and insignificant and it could be enduring and endearing. Chaeyoung simply didn’t know or understand how love could be fickle and change. So ever the curious mind, she approached Momo to ask.

 

“I hope you’re happy. How can you move on so fast? Do you even know how Tzuyu is do-“

 

“I’m doing my best for me, Chaeyoung!” Momo snapped at her. She had been doing what her family did best: pushing on and on, leaving the past behind to move on to bigger, better things. But she was no heartless vehicle. No, that’s what separated Momo and Sana from their father. He moved onto the next pit stop without remorse, without hesitation. While Momo and her sister clung on to the pain and guilt somewhere deep inside, somewhere they’d bury temporarily at their next stop. They were but children like the abandoned siblings in _Nobody Knows_ , riding the train together but alone. Without guidance and with plenty of inexplicable hurt.  Momo felt it scorching her. She felt the guilt each time she looked into Chaeyoung’s fierce, lit eyes.

 

She softened drastically, realizing she had stunned Chaeyoung of all people silent. “This won’t work. I can’t be your teacher…” she concluded. For someone taken for a fool, she had the perception of one of the wisest of them all. Mina would be the type to cry after watching some action flick, like maybe the newest Avengers film even. Momo, on the other hand, would find it numbing. She stopped crying over the love found in movies, books, and dramas long ago. Her tears had already run dry. She had already been hurt once by love, she couldn’t allow herself another fall from any form of love or platonic relationship even. “I’ll recommend you to someone else.”

 

“Fine, push me away like they always do,” Chaeyoung bitterly spat at her. If only she knew the next time she walked into a dance studio with a new teacher her life would change forever. She would no longer be the younger woman pining after an unobtainable unnie. In fact, it would be the opposite.

 

"I'm Momo's other sister. Hana," would be the first words she’d hear.

 

But before we embark on Chaeyoung’s train journey through love gained, let’s first detour to Momo’s other, other sister, Sana.

 

Sana lied sprawled out in her sister’s empty bed, half-conscious. Just hours earlier, on a quick trip home to gather her stuff, Nayeon had found her almost completely unconscious in the tub. Sana was losing it. She hadn’t been taking care of herself, letting her worries and preoccupations consume her until she was left a mindless void. “Please don’t tell Momo!” she had pleaded of Nayeon ran back from the kitchen with vitamins, food, and water for her.

 

There was more Sana and Momo had in common than blood. Sana could fake normality and a completely healthy wholesome being better than any actress. Better than Seungyeon even. Her ‘ _I’m okay’_ s were the equivalent of Dahyun saying she was healthy enough to take a test, go on a school outing, or church trip after barely getting over a severe illness. Her carefree laughter a façade for her worry after worry. Knowing all this from seeing Momo do the same, Nayeon had promised still, just to get Sana to quiet down and eat and rest. But she never promised she wouldn’t tell Dahyun.

 

As Sana buried herself under her sister’s pillow, waiting for her to get home so she could relay her struggles to her, she thought of _her_. It saddened her to the point of heaving dry, tearless sobs that tightened her heart. It wasn’t the agony of having lost love, it was the regret of not giving it fully.

 

“I know you probably think I came here to confront you, or to get revenge on you somehow,” Eunha had started so causally the other day as Sana was training her to take over her position. “I used to hate you yet be so scared of accidentally seeing you or hearing about you that I’d avoid all my friends who even knew your name.”

 

Sana had looked down on her keyboard, eyes pretending to be fixed on certain letters while really blurring in and out as they would later in the restroom. So it was true. She was Eunha’s Seungyeon.

 

“I didn’t know you’d be here. That I’d be replacing you of all people,” Eunha had continued in a hushed voice so their coworkers couldn’t overhear. She seemed so devoid of emotion, so strong and impenetrable. “You used to say you didn’t think I’d make it as a TA cause I’m too nice and frightened of everything. Well, the Eunha you knew is gone. You’ve killed her.”

 

The weight of a thousand lies, a thousand sins, a thousand and one affairs struck Sana with the force of the strongest of djinns. She had Dahyun now. That much she could call her own. So what? What havoc did she have to wreak to get here? She had driven over the innocent doll of a young woman that was Eunha, cracking her porcelain into smithereens. She had gotten her dream job by chatting it up with her father’s friends and their family, charming strangers to work in a hospital that was more of a corrupt corporation than a caring healing facility. She had lied so much, bedded so many.

 

Dahyun shouldn’t be with her. She could only give her half-truths and incomplete recounts. A faithful girl like Dahyun who’d plead her to accompany her on Sunday mornings even if she snoozed through mass anyways deserved so much more. So much more. Sure they had each other’s warmth, but it was at the cost of giving up everything they are. Sana was no saint, and Dahyun no devil. They had it all with each other. Too bad it was a sham. In the end, Sana would still have nothing, nothing at all because she couldn’t. Maybe she never knew what love is. Apart from her love for her sisters, that was it. Could she give a fuller, deeper love than that? Could she keep a healthy relationship when she could say a million words but none of them being what the other person wanted to hear most?

 

“Sana unnie,” she heard then the most touching of words she had longed to hear all day. Lightheaded and afraid she was hallucinating again, Sana reached for the water Nayeon had handed her earlier. The simultaneously softest yet roughest of embraces stopped her. The girl who didn’t know how to cry in public was weeping for her. Dahyun was there, in the most unbelievable way, materializing out of nowhere.

 

She held her back, taking in her gentle scent that infiltrated her nose so steadily. A scent she now knew like her own. But it couldn’t be so. It made no sense. “Dahyun, you’re not really here are you? I’m really losing it, aren’t I?”

 

“I am! I am!” Dahyun took her hands in her own and kissed them, spilling her tears on them.

 

Sana’s eyes widened, bewildered and somewhat mistrusting still. “How?”

 

“Nayeon, she’s my church unnie. She saw us together before. And when you started mumbling my name while you were semi-unconscious…” Dahyun couldn’t bring herself to continue between her giant sobs, enough to swallow a train whole. Maybe her father was right. She could drown fish, fish and all the men and women in the world alike.

 

Weary and worn Sana would still beg to differ. Her Ponyo lover could lead previously stranded ships head back to port, trading in her magical youth for a troubled human existence by her side. All of that with a single kiss. She left her lips on hers, leaving them touching. She tasted her tears, bitter and salty.  

 

Earlier today, Kyulkyung had been so jealous of Dahyun saying she had a spring’s love of a complexion, glowing and soft. Dahyun had disagreed, saying spring was short-lived.

 

“Well, whichever guy you’re using sleepovers at my house as a constant excuse to screw,” Kyulkyung had said calmly as they strolled through campus together, “he’s a hell of a lucky guy.”

 

Dahyun had cough up a storm, suddenly feeling weak, sick, and embarrassed all over. She too hadn’t been feeling the best of the best. Her forehead was hot, her knee was weak, her parents were stern and suspicious, and her brother distant and unsupportive. She was giving up everything for Sana. Did Sana understand her sincerity? Her insecurities? She wasn’t sure until now, crying together with Sana, pleading her to say everything.

 

So, Sana did. She told Dahyun her fears, her transgressions, her sorrows. Coming clean so she would be alert and not daze off on her own. And after it all, after she was so sure Dahyun would be disgusted with her and walk out, she stayed. She needed but one thing. “I want to feel your heart, Sana unnie.”

 

Sana made room for her, and they embraced. Arm in arm, long after cuddling became uncomfortable because in this discomfort was an emotional comfort they’d both been striving for, for longer than they had both realized.

 

The pair went on like that for some time in the dark, until Sana spoke up. “Um, Dahyun?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“That’s not my heart,” came her piqued voice.

 

“I know,” replied Dahyun, full of herself.

 

Sana smiled a weak yet prideful smile. The girl who didn’t know how to be sexy could also be oh so alluring just for her as well.

 

“Sana?” Dahyun asked softer than a stopped train’s last huff.

 

“Yes?”

 

***

 

“Take off your clothes!” Nayeon demanded the second she closed the doors clothes behind them.

 

“What the heck, Nayeon? We’re at my parents’ and everyone is here, remember?!” Jeongyeon wanted to throw all her pillows at her. Was she really going that wild? The most they had done was just kiss, and Jeongyeon was sure not even fake-bold Nayeon was that gutsy.

 

Nayeon took out tape measure from her pocket and waved it furiously in Jeongyeon’s face. “No, you perv! I just wanted to take your measurements for the squad T-shirts I’m going to order.”

 

“What the heck…” Jeongyeon repeated softer. Turns out Nayeon really was going full out with her Busan trip, matching group tees included. Jeongyeon sighed, holding up her arms for Nayeon to measure her chest anyways. She squirmed when Nayeon accidentally tickled her.

 

“Yoo Jeongyeon, hold still so I can find your boobs!” Nayeon yelled in annoyance. They were supposed to head out for the Yoo family trip any second now with Nayeon being a replacement for Tzuyu who had declined. Thinking about it, anyone could burst in…

 

“Is this a bad time?” Seungyeon stood there, arms crossed, staring them down quizzically as Nayeon’s arms were sizing up Jeongyeon’s bust.

 

“Yes!” Jeongyeon shouted louder than intended.

 

“No, it's not what you think!” Nayeon said at the same time.

 

“Well, we’re all ready to go,” Seungyeon said simply. She gave a smirking laugh and left.

 

Shame kept Nayeon motionless. “Ugh, fuck! This is all your fault!” she punched Jeongyeon’s arm with the lack of strength of a drunkard picking a subway fight.

 

If Nayeon was Jihyo, she would’ve gotten a big fat smack on the forehead from Jeongyeon for it. But she was Im Nayeon. Jeongyeon’s Im Nayeon. All was forgiven with a huffed laugh, a quick hug, and an even quicker kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go,” Jeongyeon reached for her hand.

 

Their text notifications stopped them both. “It’s my reading group buddy, she’s inviting…Dahyun?!”

 

Jeongyeon was also surprised. “And Mina is inviting Momo…”

 

They shared a look of disbelief. “So let me get this straight: you invited Jihyo who invited Tzuyu, I invited Chaeyoung who invited Dahyun, and Mina invited Momo… And we all know each other?!”

 

 

* * *

Lmk what you think of the long update ^^

 _Spoilers:_  Did she like her because she was her, or because she was who she herself used to be?

”All we’ve ever done so far is just kiss..a lot...very passionately.”

”If all that was just kissing, then please tell me when I need to evacuate the building!”

”I always thought your ideal type was younger men.”

 


	17. Moonlight

 

Sana and Dahyun looked up at the moon in broad daylight. Having been shunned out of Momo’s room after she walked in on them doing just a tad more than kissing…they had come to spend the remainder of the night at Sana and Jihyo’s shared flat. There they also shared a morning waddling about in bed until hunger pangs sent them to an early lunch at the coffee shop downstairs. The moon looked dazzling as ever from the plain cast-iron chairs they sat in eating half-burned sandwiches. It was even brighter in the day if that was possible. It wasn’t. It was merely lovers’ nonsense making the ashy world a steaming fresh place. And Dahyun and Sana couldn’t get enough.

 

“Sana?” Dahyun had asked softer than a stopped train’s last huff last night.

 

“Yes?” Sana had replied wanting to say the whole universe of words to her yet managing only one.

 

 _The moon is exceptionally beautiful,_ Dahyun wanted to say initially. She took in a sharp breath. Time for fancy concealments and allegorical messages were past. She wanted to say it plainly, impactfully. “I love you, a lot.”

 

Sana had kissed her in reply. Slow and softer than petals, then gradually hastily and rougher than the friction of wheels coming to a sudden halt, sending sparks everywhere. She would’ve said it back too. Said it right then and there as her hand felt Dahyun’s heart and more. But then Momo had walked in.

 

“All we’ve ever done so far is just kiss..a lot...very passionately,” Sana seemed to have to explain to everyone and their mom.

 

Both Momo and Jihyo had said something along the lines of: “If all that was just kissing, then please tell me when I need to evacuate the building!” Sana gleamed over this. Proud her love for Dahyun was one to be envied and disgusted over. Not quite the sappy romance for the ages, but close enough. Come to think of it though, wasn’t one of them always bawling it out, waiting for the other to come sweep them off their feet. It was sickening, saddening. Why did love have to be pain?

 

This single thought brought Sana back full circle, reaching for the air that Dahyun had occupied seconds earlier. She had left for some trip with her friends, leaving Sana to her work. It was midday now. Just second earlier, with Dahyun there making sure she ate, Sana’s trembling starlit eyes were twinkling alongside the moon. She wanted her back already, to wipe the crumbs off her face, to kiss and to hold. Sana whined, internally castrating herself of her pretentious valor. She wasn’t the action movie heroine that someone like Mina would look up to. She was just a soap opera cliché, full of tears and lacking in action and character development, she told herself.

 

Her thudding heart begged to differ today. What was it trying to tell her? It only took seeing Eunha’s reflection in the little mirror on her desk for her to realize. Hard to imagine that the meek girl of yesteryear would be the tenacious determined woman of today. Her unconfident slouch replaced with a proud strut, her head once hung low now swinging about with bouncy aired out hair for all to see and admire. Was it all thanks to Sana’s disfavor? Loosing love had made Sana a child in a fine woman’s body. Had it done the opposite for Eunha?

 

Sana put down her desk mirror, seeing enough of herself being reflected. She herself had changed after all. “Let’s stop seeing each other,” she had casually said to Eunha just like that after she had begged her for something more. Anything more permanent. Sana couldn’t even grant her a fake promise of lasting commitment. It scared her so much that she had ran from her, running into the beautiful star-filled sky without tears, only a heart scared and scarred. Sana had starred long and hard into the night, seeing so many stars and constellations. Still, there was none she could follow, none she could keep her eyes on. It took her all these months, all these years to realize she didn’t need a star, but a moon. She couldn’t commit to the millions of dazzling stars, but only to a single brilliant moon. She had to call her right that instant. She had to let Dahyun know.

 

***

 

Standing on the platform like eager Hogwart students waiting for their train, Jeongyeon had to let Kim Dahyun know. “You’re Kim Dahyun aren’t you?” she more so said than asked of their new companion. All of them with the exception of Momo who was running late and Mina who was waiting for her gathered here at platform nine. The day was half over while their journey was still to begin.

 

“Yes, that’s right,” Dahyun answered, a bit perplexed. She shifted her weight about, deceptively uncomfortably so. Though she wasn’t a super-super social butterfly like Sana, she also wasn’t antisocial. There was just something about this odd array of mismatching people that Jeongyeon and Nayeon had assembled that seemed off. Strange and conflicting like the Avengers upon first meeting.

 

Choosing not to notice, Jeongyeon snapped her fingers like she had accomplished some cool feat worth self-congratulating over. She had never seen Dahyun close up. Now that she had, it was a game changer. Jeongyeon could tell by the sharp nose, the sharper eyes, and a pale eloquence rivaling Mina’s exactly who this friend of a friend was. “You’re Kim Myungsoo’s little sister, right? You’re one of _those_ Kims. Our parents set my sister and your brother up on a blind date once.” She failed to mention that it didn’t go well. That if it had, Dahyun would’ve been set up with a cousin of hers as well. Too bad her sister had _other_ interests. And gaging from what she heard Nayeon rambling about the other day, so did Dahyun.

 

“Ah, really! So you’re from Chef Yoo’s family then! The youngest daughter, right?” Dahyun immediately recognized her as well. It was one daughter of a well-known clan member talking to another. One inner-circle child to another. They could go on and on about so-and-so’s half-brother’s aunt’s cousin and still be finding connections between them.

 

“What are they even talking about? Is this even Korean?” Chaeyoung whispered to Tzuyu, sitting on her luggage as ‘the adults’ chatted away. Could this damn train take any longer to come or would the moonlight come first?

 

Tzuyu shrugged, answering the rhetorical question in honest. “How would I know? I’m Taiwanese.”

 

Chaeyoung clapped her on the back, with a sighing laughter. Had they all been Taiwanese, perhaps she would’ve known after all. This is what separated Chaeyoung from them, she reminded herself.

 

Little did she know her book club buddy was also anxious to get a move on. “Hey, who wants some snacks?! Nothing beats eating snacks on the train!” Nayeon exclaimed, practically shoving the youngsters to the tiny convenience store between the rails ahead of them.

 

“Are you paying for everyone?” Jeongyeon called to her. Having the reputation of oldest unnie, Nayeon could splurge more on others than herself if sugared up to it. She was worst than foodie Momo in this aspect. You just had to find what made her tick. Today, it was boring talk about one random person after another and a growling stomach that couldn’t stomach Jeongyeon’s cooking from earlier in the day.

 

“Mom, can I just get ten thousand won?” Jihyo buttered up to her.

 

“Here, take the maknaes and twenty thousand,” Nayeon played along, loving being the decadent respected mother for a change.

 

“Yes!” the kids jumped for joy, dragging Dahyun with them.

 

Jeongyeon shook her head. She took one look at coffee loathing Nayeon’s Starbucks cup (an inflated and overpriced status symbol here in Korea), overhearing her growling stomach and said “I think you’d spoil your kids rotten.”

 

Nayeon took one sip and stuck out her tongue. “Says the girl that has heated toilet seats and remembers running around during State dinners in the Blue House!” she accused.

 

“First of all, it’s called a bidet,” her long-time friend corrected her. That was all she had time to say before the other girls (minus Dahyun who was caught up on the phone) ran back, unabashed to ask for more cash. There ringleader Jihyo knew precisely how to appeal to the eldest yet softest at heart. Had they not come back just then, Jeongyeon would have continued. Secondly, Nayeon was a doenjang Seoul girl whether she realized it or not. Her expensive American coffees, intricate earrings only she and Jeongyeon knew how to untangle, fifty shades of lipstick, and more. How would she ever survive in nowheresville? Jeongyeon wanted to ask, afraid Nayeon too already knew the answer.

 

Sana too, on the other line already knew the answer.

 

“We’re taking the ITX cause Jeongyeon unnie wanted to be more economical about it. It’s basically the same. It’s just a bit slower and smaller, but it’s okay,” Dahyun told her. Sana could hear her rummaging through instant ramen packages. Dahyun reprimanded her night and day for not eating enough and not eating healthy, constantly checking in on her around meal time just in case. Sana adored her for this. Her own hypocritical stud. Dahyun was no doenjang girl who’d starve to put up appearances, live in debt to live in false luxuries she couldn’t afford. She was the opposite. A well-to-do yet unpretentious girl who’d rather ramen and chill than dine and wine.  

 

“It’s not the size of the train, it's the skill of the conductor,” Sana insinuated amidst much of her own rambunctious laughter.

 

Dahyun frowned. “Are we even talking about the same thing anymore? Actually, no. Don’t tell me.” She had second thoughts. Looking up from the ramen section with her phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, she saw the night lights turn on in the distance. Something others would miss, but her eagle eyes would never. Buddha’s birthday lanterns were strewn crisscross all over the streets. The multicolored florescent round lights like a million rainbow moons connecting all of Korea. It was a beautiful moonlight, artificial or not. And it made her miss Sana all the more.

 

“Dahyun,” Sana had to say now before she could stop herself, “would you come here right now if I asked you to?”

 

“Why?” Dahyun felt strain in her own voice. “Are you not feeling well? Did something happen?” Her heart clenched. “Did something happen with Eunha?” Her clutch on the ramen cup tightened to the point that she left dents. The cashier sneered. Dahyun gave a quick bow and hastened to the checkout.

 

“No, no, no,” she eased her nerves. “It’s nothing like that. I just- I just really missed you. And have something to say to you.”

 

Dahyun covered the receiver to heave a sigh of relieve, overdramatic facials a guarantee. “Well what can’t you say over the phone.”

 

“I-I-” _Screw this moon, shit!_ Sana almost said aloud. In all her excitement, she couldn’t be coy. “I LOVE YOU! WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?!” she screeched through the phone.

 

Her voiced pierced Dahyun’s ears and heart, causing her phone to plummet to the ground. She didn’t care that it shattered, only that she couldn’t finished her conversation with Sana. In all her life, Dahyun wasn’t much of an athlete. It was surprising to Chaeyoung to find her next to her out of breath. “Sorry, a situation came up. I have to go now!” she excused herself and left without another moment’s delay. All eyes stayed on her, but her eyes were already on the moon, following it home. To Sana’s house.

 

***

 

All eyes were on Mina with her face of moonshine, soft and brilliant. Her new bangs acting as cosmic dust surrounding her face, making her more enchanting. She didn’t seem to notice, checking her messages and the time one after and other on repeat. She exhaled, trying to control her breathing. Suddenly, she craved home. Not her house here in Seoul that now belonged more to Jeongyeon and Nayeon than it did to her. She missed her home-home in Japan where her parents nestled their empty nest waiting for their children who had flown far and wide to return some day. She needed a reason now more than ever before to stay. And that reason came late to her as most other things did in life.

 

Mina was still standing here waiting for her, wasn’t she? Not _her-_ her, but Momo. Last they had talked, Mina had ran from her. Momo reminded Mina too much of a former her. A less quiet although more visibly nerve-wracked infatuated Mina around a more sophisticated woman. Did Mina like Momo because she was her, or because she was who she herself used to be? That would explain the running. The avoidance of any conversation about taking dance back up, about being her dance partner. To anyone, it would seem Mina lived on whims. A woman like a reed swaying in the wind as a song she’d heard Jeongyeon sing once proclaimed. Was she this infantile and impetuous-seeming to Momo as well?

 

She would find out in a second. “Sorry I’m late! You didn’t have to wait!” Momo panted and coughed, gasping and grasping for support. Mina hugged her unnaturally, stiffly rubbing her back. She had never been the one to care for another, so accustomed to being cared after by her doting parents and many older friends and family. She had sought protection anywhere she could find it only to find a child-like woman who looked upon her like she was the unnie here.

 

“It’s okay,” she found herself forgiving her for such an unforgivable mistake. Myoui Mina was never late for the train. Today of all days, she had decided to stay. To wait for this Momo girl who had slipped into an afternoon nap, forgetting to set up alarms beforehand. What would they both make up that? “We can just take a taxi directly to Seoul Station instead of taking the subway and transferring,” she offered as a quick solution.

 

Momo had a quicker one. “If we run, we might still be able to make it!” She grabbed Mina by the hand, running past stranger after stranger as they became more acquainted by the passing second. 

 

 _No,_ Mina initially wanted to shout. There was no use in running when one could find ways around it, she would reason otherwise. (Boy would she have sounded like a hypocrite.) But Momo’s hand in hers had her following this only slightly older woman’s ways. She suddenly felt her acting her age as she led her, parting the crowd for her. They passed couples with flowers, owners with their dogs, girls too busy on the phone to notice the world. Then came the closing train doors, and a sudden jump. Just like that, they had made it. Like the girl who leapt through time, they had made it to an opportune time for the two of them. The last train they could take to still make it to the ITX on time. The last train for them both.

 

Mina, usually hating sprinting, laughed with mouth wide open. She had the joy of a freshly hatched penguin, waddling away on its happy feet, not noticing the pain in one until much later. Momo, with no good excuse to hold Mina’s hand any longer, clutched on tighter. Had she forgiven her for being so abruptly forward earlier? Her shy smile grew as she led Mina to the subway bike rails across from the seats reserved for the elderly. There were no seats left on the rush hour train, but the horizontal rails made a fine alternative. Momo hopped on effortlessly, helping Mina after her. Mina in return, bounced about, wiggling her feet in the air. She felt alive. She felt young and hot. She felt…wet?

 

“Mina, I think your nose is bleeding!”

 

***

 

“You’re bleeding Yoo Jeongyeon! You’re bleeding!” Nayeon cried out, annoyed rather than worried. Why? It was a card game and Jeongyeon was ruining the fun by accidentally revealing her cards to the world. What a no jam. As if the rain on an otherwise spotless night didn’t dampen their plans enough. They could be in the ocean right now swimming away or on the sand frolicking all day. Instead, they were cramped into this cheap hostel’s female dorm room like they were idol members all forced to share bunks.

 

“Yah, so are you,” Tzuyu nudged her shorter friend.

 

“Eh,” Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung made little of the situation in unison. They were more interested in annoying a certain someone than playing the actual game.

 

“Wow, way to be bleeding and proud,” Jihyo quipped. She looked at her cards again. Looks like she was at a disadvantage. It was best to end this round now while the night was still young. She quite disliked loosing.

 

“Better B positive than B negative, right?” she pointed a finger gun at Jeongyeon. Also having a daffy sense of punny humor, Jeongyeon met her finger to finger in E.T. finger salute. “Ayyye!” the no jam brothers celebrated in lame fashion.

 

Nayeon rolled her eyes. She had thought that Jeongyeon would get along with Chaeyoung. Both of them acting twice their age normally. Little did she imagine they’d bond over their nutty sense of humor. Actually, she didn’t even know that Chaeyoung had such a dad’s sense of humor until today. Who could’ve guess. “Alright, I’m going to bed early for tomorrow,” she said in Jeongyeon’s direction, willing her to follow to her bunk. Jeongyeon followed her, an ever-willing puppy. She would’ve made doggy noises too as she trailed after Nayeon. Remembering their company, however, she cleared her throat and no so smoothly excused herself for bed as well.

 

This left behind Chaeyoung with Tzuyu and Jihyo. “Well, wanna shuffle and restart?” Chaeyoung was about to say. Then she saw the bump under the blanket. She was a fool for not noticing earlier. Jihyo and Tzuyu had sat with hands secretly entwined this whole time. Chaeyoung threw her cards down softly. “Well, time for me to pass out all alone. By myself. Just me and myself. Not that anyone cares,” she said sarcastically, climbing up the small ladder. Once alone, she whipped out her phone, checking for messages and notifications if any to assuage her lonesomeness. A bright and cheery ding came just then. Momo’s older sister and her new dance instructor, Hana, had just liked her new Instagram story. She shimmered with a smile more brilliant than the moon’s.

 

From atop Nayeon’s bunk, and from atop Nayeon, Jeongyeon put her kisses on standstill to say, “You know, I always thought your ideal type was younger men.”

 

She was pushed off Nayeon in a quarter of a second. “Yeah, well aren’t you like a younger boy, you five-year-old no jam,” she hissed at her for pulling up something she shouldn’t.

 

Jeongyeon grinned cheekier than Mina and Momo staying at a random but yet posh hotel waiting for the rain to subside and the next day’s first bullet train to arrive. Her smile turned into a lightening fast kiss on Nayeon’s lips that timed itself perfectly with the thunder outside.

 

Nayeon gave a little jump. “I don’t even know why I like you,” she muttered still touching her lips the same way Mina still did upon reminiscing over her kiss with Momo.

 

“Nayeon,” Jeongyeon asked her seriously all a sudden, “when did you start?”

 

“Start what?”

 

“Start liking me like this.”

 

A lifetime flashed before Nayeon. When did she start? Didn’t everything just add up until it became overwhelming? She was flustered. “I don’t know!” she pulled the covers up to hide, but Jeongyeon pulled them down to join her under the sheets.

 

“Then I’ll go first, okay?” she made herself say, ignoring her cheeks burning more than Nayeon’s. The awkwardness of loving her best friend caught her raw and unhinged still. “It was when you ran out of JYP,” she breathed unsteady, finding hints of the tears she had though she dried long ago. “I thought if I didn’t catch you that I’d lose you forever. And I realized I couldn’t do it without you.” She buried herself deep in the sheets, so embarrassed by her confession she couldn’t go on with the rest of what she had intended to say.

 

A proud, proud Nayeon beat on Jeongyeon’s arm. Somewhere between the verge of laughter and tear, she answered Jeongyeon’s query. “Me too. Remember when you couldn’t qualify for the monthly showcase because you were still 0.1 kilograms over the cutoff weight and you thought about leaving JYP for good, too? You ran off to your part-time bakery job, and I thought damn, I’m too fine to marry a baker but I’d still run off with you…” she talked faster as she went, her nerves catching up to her. “I thought I couldn’t live without you.” She breathed in and out deeply, finishing with, “I can’t live without you.”

 

They were so similar-minded and so different. Taking partings as a mighty force forcing them to come to terms with their feelings. Only this time, one wanted to stay as the other wanted to go.

 

“Don’t leave me then,” Jeongyeon laid down her ultimatum. She knew Nayeon. Knew she couldn’t survive out there without hating it, wishing for home, wishing for a weekend retreat or beach outing, and wishing for Jeongyeon all the more.

 

“Come with me then,” Nayeon offered her proposal in the same breath, knowing full well it was one that Jeongyeon shouldn’t take up. They had become a cowherder and his fairy wife, stuck on opposite ends of the sky.  

 

***

 

The sky sullied with rain and storm clouding up the moon and stars somehow still gave off an alluring light. It wasn’t the clash of thunder that Sana saw. Only Dahyun’s bright, bright face under a small umbrella. She came in an oversized white tee, striped pajama pants, and slippers carrying a brand of ramen that Sana didn’t care for. Nevertheless, Sana ran to her. Stopping short when their umbrellas met.

 

“Hi,” was all she could say to her as the metal of their umbrellas clashed softly against each other. She stared at her, full of love and admiration, willing to commit her all to her. Uncertainty’s trepidation got the best of her first. “Doesn’t the moon-”

 

Dahyun threw aside her umbrella to run up and kiss her. “Shut up. There’s no moon, just you. Just you.”

 

“Is that a _‘yes, I’ll be your girlfriend?’_ ” Sana squealed breathlessly.

 

Dahyun kissed her some more. At long last, she looked up at the moon of her life to ask in reply, “Want to ramen and chill?”

 

 

 


	18. Halfway Home

 

They were the sick leading the cripple. How did Mina not realize it before that Momo had been suppressing back coughs? Now on top of her back, she could feel every struggling gasp of air trying to come out. True the rains had cleared the skies, but the late nights were still a polluted mess and they had spent a lot of nights out late as of late. No wonder Momo had overslept today. This was her fault, Mina blamed herself as always. “You don’t have to take me to a pharmacy. I’m really fine now!” she protested once more, holding up a bloodless tissue as her evidence. “And I can walk, you don’t have to carry-“

 

“No!” Momo coughed some, then carried on carrying Mina on, “No, I shouldn’t have made you run!” She also put the blame on herself as Mina had. How could she expect the dainty girl to rough it out in this weather or even run and jump about without hurting herself? Even a toughie like Momo was falling ill. She couldn’t expect frail Mina to bear it out more than her. True Mina’s new bangs gave her a refreshing youthful and vigorous appearance. Truer still was that Momo also though of her as incredibly brave and tough. Nevertheless, Momo still saw the well-kept tenderness Mina nursed inside alongside her lifetime of regrets. She had say it flare out like a train off tracks hurling away that day she had asked her hand in dance. They hadn’t talked of it since, but Momo took it as her blunder.

 

Mina, again, did likewise. She could be fickle like this. Saying she loved her short hair without bangs only to end up cutting it similar to Momo’s style. _She_ had once loved her long hair. It was that same love of long hair that had destroyed her in the end. If only whoever snatched her didn’t find her hair so luscious as well. If only her voluminous locks weren’t so easy to grab onto. It had been due to her that Mina cut her perpetually long hair, and it was due to Momo that she regained bangs she hadn’t had since she last first become interested in dance. Though what use were these thoughts now? Nothing from her new hairdo to her inflamed knee could bother her like Momo’s constant cough.

 

“Let’s stop at the M2 Hotel on the left,” she steered Momo with a gentle nudge on the shoulder. It was a grand establishment, not like the love motels swarming the alleys adjacent. A pompous place, eons beyond where the rest of their friends stayed cramped up in Busan.

 

Momo’s mind went blank seconds after a rapid fire of forbidden imagination. “Why? We should still get you looked after, and then make our way to Busan.”

 

“It’s too late now. And it’s fine, we should hurry and find shelter before the rain picks up again.”

 

 

Momo couldn’t argue with that logic. She also couldn’t break the news to Mina that she couldn’t afford the place. That she couldn’t afford Mina. She and each of her sisters had a Black Card thanks to their good old papa, though it was a piece of plastic they’d never use. Not even out of spite. Still, she listened to Mina, going in blind.

 

What a ragtag team they made. Two clear foreigners drizzled by rain, dampened in spirit by occasion and poor health. The lobby staff made their way to them quick. To shoo them away that was. “Sorry, but we’re fully booked.”

 

Alien registration card in hand, Mina hopped off Momo’s sturdy back and flashed her ID mightier than any Black Card. “I’m Myoui Mina. This hotel was named after me. I’m the primary share holder. You can call my father, Dr. Myoui if you’d like. But first, we’d like the Empress Suite and if that’s not available then we’ll settle for the King Suite.”

 

“Right away Ms. Myoui!” The frantic employees scuttled off never imagining their boss would be this young meek Japanese woman. Momo was left equally frantic. She had known that the Myoui family came from money. Just how much exactly, she could never have imagined. There humble Mina was, surprising her day by day.

 

That night in their king of king size beds, Momo had only apologies for a girl well beyond her. “I’m sorry for pushing you then, and today, too,” she hid behind an ample pillow to mutter into the thick padding. How tiny she felt next to Mina. On the norm, she could only feign ignorance, pretend to be unaffected by her, not looking at her at all to have some resemblance of strength.

 

Mina wiped off the last of her makeup coming to Momo barefaced and bare-hearted. “It's really fine, Momo,” she started and could not finish. She should’ve been the one apologizing, she thought but did not say. She was always searching, searching for a getaway. An easy card out like her ID cards and her multinational passports that gave her entrance into worlds unknown if she were to tap into them. She rarely did. Now in her twenties, she was still one to call her mother before making major purchases. Yet here she was, spending the night in strange hotel with this strangest of strange woman.

 

Momo delved deeper into her pillow as Mina approached. “Is my bare face not what you excepted?” the latter asked self-consciously. She exposed herself to so few.

 

The pillow housing Momo shook feverishly along with Momo’s growing fever. What words could she use to describe the unfairness of this world? How could a girl of this world be so fair while so bare? Her temperature rose, skyrocketing until she felt dizzy. Spinning in this cloud of a bed she could melt in. Was it possible to melt into Mina? She so wanted her embrace. God, she was a mess.

 

“Momo?” Mina reached for her head, wincing from the heat she felt, not thinking part of it was for her. Because of her very touch. “Let me call for some meds for you. I’m sure they have to have something.”

 

Momo’s hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her short. “It’s okay. I just want to sleep it off.” She was almost in her mid-twenties and still hated medication like a child hating vegetables. She was an adult who still preferred cola over water, a warm snuggling session over serious talk. Mina gave her just that, settling down next to her.

 

Mina sighed softly, brushing Momo’s hair aside as Jeongyeon had once done for her. And so, the girl who was pampered with care found herself caring for another. All her life she had wanted to be looked after, to be the adored youngest child needing protection and affection. Her ideal type was someone who was well put together, someone who could care for her, she had always said so often she had come to believe her words. But ideal types were always short of reality. Sometimes the opposite of it. Remembering Nayeon’s body heat and Jeongyeon’s tight hugs on her, she gave needy Momo just that. Care, gentleness, and love. She went against Momo’s request and sent for the medication as well with a tap of a touch screen. She wanted Momo to have it all. All the warmth in the world like the humidness that clung to the skin after the dreary showers.

 

Her hand wouldn’t leave the side of Momo's face, stroking away wave after wave of hair, leaving a clearing on her cheek. It was perfect for a kiss. A kiss on the cheeks to start the night. Perfect, had it not been for Mina’s phone going off. “Sorry,” she excused herself.

 

Momo sat up with her. Was there someone more important than her in this instant? She needed to know. Needed to know if there was perfection in the likes of Im Nayeon that she had to yet again compete against. It had taken her becoming Nayeon’s roommate to realize she was no match for this stock of women so ethereal that Jeongyeon who’d deny herself of love from the fairer sex all her life would crumble to day in and day out. Momo squirmed anxiously, thinking such thoughts. Would history repeat itself?

 

“Sorry, I had to answer my mom. She's like my best friend; she won’t stop checking up on me,” Mina turned back to her smiling, silencing her phone for good.

 

“Oh,” was all Momo could manage. She was jealous for another reason now. The only time her own mother ever called was when Momo had done something wrong, or her dear mother had been wronged by her philandering father yet again. She wondered what it was like coming home to such a loving environment, wondered why Mina would ever leave. And then the idea struck her. “Mitang,” she found herself calling her.

 

“Y-yes?” Mina stumbled over her own weak response. She hadn’t been called that in some time.

 

Momo too fought for courage. She had quite the bold proposal. Downing her anxiety more firmly than big pills to swallow, she gathered strength to say, “I’m going back to Japan on a trip soon. Do you want to come with me?”

 

Silence, then an airy quiet laugh. “Where to?” Mina asked to her relief. “Tokyo? Osaka?”

 

“To my home.”

 

***

 

Sana’s home in Korea had never truly felt homey to her. It didn’t have her mother’s cooking, her grandmother’s kind voice. But those were things of the past. What she had here was a home both of spite and of dreams unattained. “Forget your father, Satang. Do what you want. Go where you want. Follow that Korean actress if you want. Granny wanted to see you on TV one day, but you being happy is enough,” were her grandmother’s last words to her. So she had done just that. Left for Korea to spite her father who hated all things Korean, left to follow a woman who acted better in person than on screen, left to find happiness. And here it was, she supposed, in a super casually dressed makeup free young woman eating ramen with her legs up on the table.

 

“You know, when you said you wanted to ramen and chill-”

 

“Shh, my Japanese drama is back on!” Dahyun shushed her to hear the dubbed over dramatic dialogue of some cute young Osakan actress in a stereotypical medical soap Sana could care less for. God, why did Sana have to introduce Dahyun to such things?

 

Sana fought regret with temptation. She slid over to Dahyun, nuzzling her head this way and that against her T-shirt. When that wasn’t enough, she straight up stuck her head under Dahyun’s oversized shirt, laughing tremendously all the while. “Ah! Sana!” Dahyun called out in annoyance, honorifics long forgotten. Her straightforward words were useless against Sana’s love tactics, so Dahyun tried a stronger approach. “Yeobo! Yeobo!”

 

“Hmm,” Sana responded to her smoother and sweeter than an adorable shiba puppy.

 

“You’re going to rip my shirt.”

 

“Good!” Sana laughed some more. It was so refreshing to hear her delight, a helpless Dahyun let her be…until she tried to poke her head through.

 

“Sana! What are you-”

 

They gasped and yelped while Dahyun’s shirt was swung off after much fussing. Perhaps it wasn’t a ramen and chill night but a wine and dine one instead, with the alcohol being love’s intoxication and the dining being, well… “Sana!”

 

“Dahyunie!”

 

“No, Sana, stop kissing me for a second. We spilled the ramen.”

 

“We’ll clean it later,” she stopped, looked at Dahyun square in the eye to flush like it was her first love and said, “yeobo!” She had a fit of giggles afterwards.

 

Dahyun groaned, annoyed at herself for not hating it. For loving it all. Sana was unstoppable. One day she was crying over scars of her past and another she was all over Dahyun, insisting they stop their status-less game in exchange for these cheesy titles of commitment. It was too fast. Way too fast, and Dahyun knew, though she could not yet ask what triggered such a response. She would play in this charade of couple life some more first. She had become one of those move-in lesbians she had read about. She was already neatly wrapped in Sana’s arms, hoping she’d unpackage her with care.

 

It surprised her when Sana’s tone grew grave out of the blue. “Dahyun, in all seriousness though…”

 

“Yes?” she answered her tentatively, heart flayed in dry ice already for no good reason. She had too much to fear with Sana. Crumbs of happiness couldn’t feed the endless hunger for certainty, for lasting security.  

 

“Do you want an early birthday present?!” Sana perked up again instantly, kissing her cheek sloppily over and over, asking for permission for more.

 

Dahyun squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a smile more joyous than a little kid finally getting their much desired for trainset on their birthday. She nodded only once before Sana sprawled over her on the couch. Maybe tonight, just tonight, she could forget it all in her girlfriend’s arms. Not even her mother’s pesky text tone could annoy her. The text telling her to go home right away. The text saying her brother had already told her parents everything.

 

 

* * *

**Short update cause I have work but I wanted to make it in time for Dahyun’s birthday. And akslkaklaskl yeah…just lmk what you think~ Will edit and add more later.**

 


	19. Beginning Again As the Tortoise and the Hare

 

**_NOTE:_ I just  _very recently_  updated this fic so make sure to read the previous chapter if you haven't already!**

 

She took a stroll alone in the eerie death of the night with a heavy heart. The colorful lit lanterns that once seem so warm now seemed so mocking. What was this rainbow array of lights for if others were only to chastise them? She didn’t feel shinning. Certainly not the moon and stars Sana made her out to be. “Do you want to go away together, Dahyun? Do you still want to go to Busan? Take me with you. I’ll hide in your bag if I need to,“ she had offered with a smile that wasn’t a smile of joy but a smile of desperation. Tomorrow would Dahyun find herself at the subway with her world in a bag by her side?

 

All at once it seemed like a good way, she thought, realizing it’s the end of the line. Her love line would thrive or perish depending on where she took it from here. Then here would come the train upon the tracks, and there would go the pain, as it cuts to black. Was Dahyun ready for the last act? To take a step she couldn’t take back? She had surely come out of her shell for Sana, trying new things, saying strange things, crude things that shouldn’t be repeated. Having crude thoughts, doing crude things… She had really come out alright. Now all that was left was actually coming out.

 

But it was still too sudden. All too sudden. She had been on the train for fun, cruising about, letting Sana lead. Could Dahyun now lead her to her home? To admit to all that this was the woman, no, the person she loved most? She wished she hadn’t seen the text some hours ago as Sana lied in a deep naked slumber by her side. She should be back there holding her still. All they ever did was hold on to each other as if their legs were tied together, hobbling, struggling to cross the line together. They had made a home for themselves, claiming territory by calling each other their own. Dahyun could imagine a lifetime just sitting there watching Sana nibble away at her food and encouraging her girlfriend to eat more, be healthier, be happier. She was fed up with trials and tribulations. They both deserved to be happy in love, didn’t they? So why was it so hard for everything to fall into place? For their happiness to stay their simple happiness?   

 

Then her source of joy came to her. “There you are,” Sana muttered, draping a nightgown over Dahyun. “I was afraid you left me behind.”

 

Dahyun held onto Sana’s hand on her shoulder, wordlessly. There was nothing she could say. Sana would have to say it for her.

 

“You left your phone out. I was frantic for a second when I didn’t see you so I checked your phone and saw-“

 

She silenced her softly with a peck on her lips. The lights behind them flickered under sudden thunder, then regained their brilliance. Dahyun lingered there on her tiptoes long after the kiss, taking in Sana’s candy-like scent, her every kind gesture, the way she called her name.

 

“Dahyun-ah,” Sana caressed her face, the face of the sweet girl she had made into an agonized woman. “Let’s go. Let’s go wherever you’re happiest.”

 

Dahyun went in for a firm embrace, making herself home in Sana’s arms. “Sana unnie, we don’t have to go anywhere.” She looked up, focusing her darling glimmering orbs for eyes on a Sana ridden with worry for her. She had found her one caveat. “Unless you want to go. Unless you want to leave. Then I’ll follow you.”

 

***

 

Her scent, her gestures, even the way she called her name in her sleep. “Nayeon, don’t go,” Jeongyeon said in a voice dripping with sleep’s dolefulness until it was punctured by sadness’s fitfulness. The ocean breeze blew Jeongyeon’s words to her, keeping a sleepless Nayeon on edge. She caught a paranoid Jeongyeon mid toss and turn. Which of them was more restless was hard to tell. _It’s okay, I won’t,_ she wanted to say. “Jeongyeon, I have to go. And, and, I want you to follow but you shouldn’t,” came out instead. She had always called Nayeon a hare. A crazy yet soft fuzz ball of energy with matching cute bunny teeth that she always had to run after. Only this time, good old dependable tortoise Jeongyeon might have to let Nayeon go ahead for good.

 

They could only plead for the other to know their heart. And that was their love line. How trivial all this timing and waiting bull seemed now. Now that their line had been drawn, that their love had been declared... They had come clean so that love could color them, only to be splattered red. A velvet so crimson, it was more like vore than desert. Consuming them whole.

 

Before it could, Nayeon would still hold Jeongyeon’s hand, look into her closed eyes to tell her: “Every day. Every single day, we argued, but I guess we didn’t hate each other after all. You know how long I waited, Jeongyeon? Sometimes, when you stare at me, I’m afraid things will get awkward, so I just stare at the floor or pick a fight with you for no good reason. But I want you to stay. By my side always,” she choked up, tears mounting. Only fools in love talked to each other in their sleep like this, and Nayeon had just become one of those fools. Jeongyeon’s fool. _Who cares if you’re slow? Who cares if it took you a million years to realize I’m the one you can never let go? I’ll wait for you,_ she didn’t have the heart to say aloud.

 

It was Nayeon’s profound sadness rather than her words that woke up Jeongyeon. She had heard only parts of her confession, but it was enough. Those words were her own as well. They might as well have been penned by her in an entrancing song of love to be found and treasured. A song so melodic, so lyrically simple in its elegance that she could never sing it live to Nayeon. Tongue caught in her mouth, weighed down by forces from all sides, Jeongyeon spent the night in Nayeon’s dry tears, listening to her sob and clutch her tighter and tighter. She offered only her warmth. It was all she could offer for now.

 

Come morning, Jeongyeon took one look at Nayeon’s beaten down, still rain-soaked Converse that she wore as if they were slip-ons and heaved the heaviest sigh. _Oh, Nayeon._ Next to Jeongyeon’s new water resistant mules, they looked so tarnished, needing attention before they’d tear beyond repair. She should’ve anticipated this. They say mule slip-ons were invented for Seoul fashionistas who ran about with their shoes only half on. Messes trying to pass off as composed trendy highlife really. She sighed some more, taking out a blow dryer to dry Nayeon’s stinking shoes. She should’ve anticipated Nayeon wouldn’t come prepared. She should’ve went ahead and got them matching shoes. What would Nayeon do in this race called life without her anticipating her needs for her before they could be voiced? Jeongyeon may be slow to action sometimes, yes. In no way was she slow in thought though. And right now, all she could think about was Nayeon.

 

Until when would they continue on like this? They had wanted each other, waiting for each other like fools sending signals into the void. Now face to face, they couldn’t look at each other. Nayeon’s weathered shoes were ready to start anew in places unknown while Jeongyeon’s new sneakers were only starting to make their claim to fame way back in Seoul. The obsessed with cleaning Asian mother in Jeongyeon grew feisty, torching the nasty Converse with the highest heat setting. Fresh out of the restroom after her morning routine, Nayeon caught her burning hand. “It’s fine, Jeongyeon. I’ll just buy another one.”

 

“No, it’s not fine. They’re your favorite.”’

 

Nayeon shook her head, her expression as sullen as a conductor who had witnessed death firsthand, caused by his inability to stop going forward. “’Favorites can be replaced with new ones. I’ll find something else to wear.”

 

 _When they were new, you said you thought you of all people could even win a race in them. That you’ll never need another pair,_ Jeongyeon wanted to remind her. She knew she wouldn’t remember saying it. Nayeon didn’t commit sayings to memory the way Jeongyeon did. Nayeon got by letting things go like Sana and Momo do while Jeongyeon, Mina, and Chaeyoung held onto ever word, every action. “It shouldn’t have been you,” Jeongyeon had said to Momo in disgust that one fateful morning in the past. Both she and Momo had hated her for it, reliving those words daily until it broke them. In a universe away, this morning, all Jeongyeon had wanted to say to Nayeon was “It should be you. It should always be you and me.” Where were those words now that they made it to the end of the track preparing for the next, each taking on a race of their own while still wanting to be a pair now and forever?

 

“Damn it, Nayeon! Don’t be wasteful! And here,” Jeongyeon roughly pushed the hairdryer to her. “’Dry your own damn shoes! I won’t always be there doing all this maid service for you!”

 

“Yah! What’s with you first thing in the morning? It’s not like I ask you to-”

 

***

 

“What’s going on with them?” Chaeyoung whispered to Tzuyu from the bunk across. Nayeon and Jeongyeon had taken their fight to the lobby, allowing the maknaes to finally stop pretending to still be asleep.

 

Tzuyu got down from the top bunk by simply taking a step down. “Something about shoes? I don’t know. When aren’t they arguing?” she shrugged. It took Chaeyoung some time climbing down to catch up with her in front of their luggage where they both changed to outerwear.

 

Chaeyoung assessed the situation quickly with a perked ear. “I don’t know, Tzuyu. Seems more serious. Talk about it raining on our parade. First Dahyun sunbae leaving out of nowhere and then the rain, and now this.”

 

Throwing on a light jacket, Tzuyu didn’t seem bothered and continued with her morning routine. In all honesty, they were ‘ _tertiary’_ to her. (A big new word she had learned from Chaeyoung recently during one of her rants about how certain minority characters never get proper nor enough representation. Whatever all that meant.) If they were a drama or novel, Tzuyu would put herself as the main protagonist because what other way was there to live life? She had seen Mina and Momo prioritizing others until it crippled them and made them bleed dry. She wasn’t like them, wouldn’t be like them. They would be tiresome as main leads, she though. Always searching for something to end up with nothing. It took someone bold and upfront like Chaeyoung or Jihyo to match her on main character-worthy status, she humored herself with such a thought.

 

Appearing confident and tall, Tzuyu only bowed before these two women. The two that made her seem slow, unable to catch up. Their hearts were always going ahead while her own grew like a balloon until she was afraid it would burst. She was a girl of so many feelings and so little words. It was frustrating. So she chose to act bold and indifferent. Chose to put on a shell that put her behind more, slowing her down more.

 

At the same time, however, she wouldn’t let Chaeyoung linger in the back with her. “Chae, you know the competition I’ve been training for with Jihyo?” she brought up seemingly casually while digging for a hair tie.

 

“Yeah, the one you’ve been spending nights over at her place getting ready for?” Chaeyoung insinuated taking a glance to her left to make sure their teacher was still asleep.

 

“Oh, that one,” Tzuyu nodded. “You know, I’ve been thinking, I have plenty of opportunities to get noticed by entertainment companies. I’m just being picky about it right now, really. So if you want, I can just not do it and ask Teacher Jihyo to put in a good word for you ins-‘’

 

Chaeyoung put her foot down, literally stomping on the ground as she got into her tight high-top sneakers. “Tzuyu don’t.”

 

Tzuyu stepped back, a giant dog afraid of a tough puny puppy. Never had Chaeyoung used such a tone with her in all their time as friends both close and distant. “I don’t mean it as charity or anything. I know you have plenty of talent. More than me even! It’s just I think the opportunity-“

 

“Should be rightfully earned,” Chaeyoung finished for her, downing some Pocari Sweat like it was her alcohol. Tzuyu didn’t deserve this harsh reaction, but she had to be firm. If there was anything a social justice warrior like Chaeyoung stood up for most, it was nepotism and social ladder climbing with the help of insiders. After all, it was what had landed her family where they were. But that was a story for later, a story that Tzuyu did not yet know.

 

“You’re up early!” Jihyo came and backhugged Tzuyu, diffusing the tension. Or rather, she made it awkward in a different way.

 

How was Chaeyoung supposed to take their teacher being affectionate to her good friend like this? She turned to rid herself of the eyesore just to see another limping in. Limping in on shoes that Chaeyoung had decorated for her not so far back. _‘Love is doing small things with great love,’_ she had painted in acrylics for Mina, hoping she’d notice the small piece of love that was Chaeyoung. The words, it turned out, ended up being meant for someone else. Here Mina was with her small hand around Momo’s waist, two lost-looking women giving each other the smallest gestures, smelling of each other’s perfume, calling each other by gross affectionate nicknames, hoping the world wouldn’t notice. But Chaeyoung did.    

 

 

* * *

**As usual, I'll edit later and lmk what you think~ ^^**

 

 _Spoilers:_ maybe some sorta DaMo, MiSana/2na, and ?? 

 

 _Before I update_ ,  **tweet**  about the fic (with the hashtag and link) and I may update quicker and/or give you a special devoted reader shout out! ^^

_# **TWICESeoulTrain**_

**AO3:**   _[goo.gl/UVkQ5M](https://t.co/Lds47LSmCY)_

 **AFF:**   _[goo.gl/Q6Y6Jr](https://t.co/r9sjC56ps9)_

 

 **** ** _Stories to be updated next:_**   _ **[Love and Magic (and All Things Momo)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271852/chapters/25207182) **_ & my  **NEW**  Twice story _ **[Worlds Apart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764128)**_

 


	20. All About You/ All About Dub and Tzu

 

The redolence of a pain relief patch didn’t get missed by Tzuyu, making her bitterer than the medicine she grew up on. She pulled Jihyo a bit closer, not for warmth or reassurance but to make a statement. The morning cool after a night of cascading rains now gave her chills. A burning chill. _So you’re here too,_ she thought bemused. She refused to acknowledge Momo any further. She had Mina around her closer than she had Jihyo. It wasn’t a competition. Just two awkward could-have-beens occupying the same cramped space.

 

 _Could have been,_ Tzuyu reminded herself. Never was. Momo was never the perfect replacement for a much beloved pet. Never the person who’s hair she wanted to ruffle the most. The person she wanted to pull down on the couch to tussle around with the most. The person she wanted to struggle while learning Korean with the most. She was never the ideal woman for her, but she had at one point sure wished she was. She was the most she could’ve have imagined like an imaginary train so limited by the thinker’s lack of technical knowhow of trains that the parts didn’t seem to look nor work right. Didn’t seem to fit right. Who was Tzuyu to comment on relationships when hers was never even a ‘has been’, only a ‘could have’?

 

She had one time flipped through Chaeyoung’s copy of _Call Me By Your Name_ that sat in their restroom medicine cabinet more easily accessible but less touched than any medicine there. Chaeyoung had been making an effort to read a page a day, or so she’d claim before getting sidetracked. Novels with such trifling, inconsequential details on interpersonal inspection may be of some interest to a person who could sit through the likes of a three hour long, dramatic French movie like Chaeyoung. It was so Chaeyoung, and not at all Tzuyu. For Tzuyu, it was a confusing bore. “This book is so inaccurate. How can a young kid have this much insight to be narrating like this?” she had once asked Chaeyoung.

 

“What, are you saying we can’t be deep thinkers? I’m sure you’d tell me the world, if I understood Chinese. And who said it was him from back then? It’s more of a reflection much later on,” was Chaeyoung’s steady response. With that, she threw Tzuyu a peach for thought.

 

Tzuyu agreed with and understood her answer much more now than she did then. She was no agonized Elio and Momo was no distant Oliver. There was no forbidden love’s angst, no departure by circumstance, only by choice. All that didn’t stop Tzuyu from pulling Jihyo outside with her away from the maddening crowded room. She hoped the slightest of drizzle would mask her eyes. “Unnie, let’s go first.”

 

 _This doll,_ Jihyo smiled upon her before she saw her grimace. “Why’d you pull us out? Are you okay?” She had been just as surprised as Tzuyu. Not at the sight of Momo but the sight of Mina, happy and truly not alone. “We didn’t even get to greet-”

 

She stopped Jihyo with a hug, easily tilting her head into the crook of her neck. What a tiny unnie she was compared to the giant Tzuyu. “I just want to have fun and…be happy on my birthday,” she mumbled her reply.     

 

“Chou Tzuyu, happy birthday!” she heard in Sana’s voice instead of Jihyo’s.

 

This was not necessarily a pleasant surprise for them both. A happy change up.

 

“Sana?” Jihyo asked, and Tzuyu did the same, forgetting honorifics. “Dahyun?” they added, both surprised by their shared acquaintances.

 

Sana came as she always did. Smiling from ear to ear, with a younger woman in hand. Her woman. Dahyun had a cheeky grin, one of pure joy rather than bashfulness. She could have been at home, facing consequences from daring to love. She could have been Elio taking out her feelings on others until they became overwhelming and her desire pushed her to one bad decision after another with her most everlasting, most temporary love. Her Oliver, her Sana. But she chose to believe. Believe that today was hers and so was the world. She deserved to be happy on her birthday.

 

“Sorry for randomly dropping in on your squad,” Sana got away with quick hugs to her roomie and her roomie’s student. “I couldn’t leave my friend…my girlfriend,” she corrected with an approving look from Dahyun, “alone on her birthday.”

 

“It’s your birthday too?” Tzuyu asked intrigued, though not showing it.

 

Dahyun made a ‘V’ out of her thumb and pointer finger and posed coolly in her shades that covered much of her face. “Yours too, right? Chaeng told me about it over text when I said I was coming back. Here, a present for the birthday girl,” she handed her a box of a premium Royce Nama green tea match chocolates. They were almost nearly as rich and decadent as Sana and Dahyun as a couple, though not nearly as sweet. “It’s a tradition for those coming of age! You get chocolates, perfume, roses, and a kiss,” she explained away, disregarding Jihyo’s eagle eyes that probably spotted the cover-up over her bruised neck and puffy eyes. (What a night it had been…)

 

“We didn’t know what perfume you wanted or where to get roses on the go, but I can give you a kiss!’’ she who doesn’t even need to be named offered.

 

“Sana, no!” they all yelled in perfect harmony with equal panic.

 

“Don’t worry about the roses and perfume. Nayeon and I have that covered,” Jihyo gave away to retain Tzuyu’s full attention.

 

Tzuyu turned to her with the smuggest of smile, feeling infinitely better already. “Unnie, you didn’t have to,” she spoke to her and her alone. She wanted to pick her up out of the blue, to swing her around because she could, because Jihyo would hate it but not object.

 

“Is there anything else that you want?” Sana asking, peeping her head in between the two in one last effort to get Tzuyu’s attention. Tzuyu didn’t react to her at all.

 

“Is there anything else that you want?” Jihyo repeated.

 

To that, Tzuyu eagerly nodded. “I get a kiss, too, right?” She asked, for the most precious, most memorable gift of all.

 

“Okay, Dahyunie. Let’s go, honey!” Sana led her significant other on by the hand. “Nothing more to see here. Let me properly introduce you to my sister now that we have clothes on.”

 

Dahyun nearly choked over her easy words. They came out so easily, so free and joyous. She bit her smile, chewing on her lips to keep from exposing her own contentment. It didn’t need to be spoken or displayed on the face. Sana stopped mid-step, pointed in the distance saying “look at the lanterns,” and they both smiled harder. Loved harder.

 

***

 

Love was harder than learning to drive a train. It was so much more than levers and wheels. There were twists and turns, sure. But was there ever an end? A such thing as getting of the road, stopping one’s drive? Love was hurt, and hurt was love. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how much Jeongyeon and Momo had both hurt each other. They sat on the beachside, staring out into the sea to avoid looking at one another like they were each other’s worst nightmares. And to an extent, they were.

 

Once, Jeongyeon had screamed waking up next to Momo. The fear, the regret, the shame. Even if it was just a night of only slightly beyond chaste kisses and roaming. She had nightmares of it for some time. Momo’s hurt face, asking her “why?” Why was she so upset? They both wanted to know and were afraid to answer. It’s because Momo was the nightmare. A frightening mistake never meant to happen. While Nayeon… Nayeon, she was the dream. The hope, the desire, the pride that Jeongyeon had always wanted.

 

“So you and Nayeon, huh?” Momo said as sand slipped through her fingers. She had truly let go. So, so long ago. So why were tears that she had dried out with sand enough to make a desert finding their way upon her shores once more? She didn’t want an answer from Jeongyeon. She just wanted to say her bit to give herself final peace. “I’m happy for you two. It’s about time.”

 

Time. It was never time for them. But Jeongyeon would accept the warm wishes ever the same. “Thank you,” she said really meaning _God damn it, Momo. Can’t you be a bit more selfish so I could feel less miserable than I do now?_ Jeongyeon was an admirably loving and giving character, but perhaps she was the most selfish in ways as well. “I’m sorry,” she admitted. Her remorse clenched in her hand in the pile of sand she had built up, unable to release unlike Momo. It was the Hirai motto to let loose and let live. The Yoo’s might was well be the opposite. To hold tight and persist in one direction. It had taken Jeongyeon so much to admit this fault, her biggest error, years later.

 

Momo didn’t know how to react, what to say. She nodded, biting her lips. Her words had come too late, it would seem. Better late than never, people would say. But Jeongyeon had truly taken her time and Momo had left long ago until Mina who would stay and wait, and wait. It bugged Momo almost as much as it relieved her. She blinked away her tears, tilting her head up to the obscured sun and leaned back on her two outstretched arms.

 

Jeongyeon could’ve hugged her, could’ve said warm words. No, she was Jeongyeon. It was out of her character. Even if she wanted to, if she could, she didn’t feel worthy of it. Not anymore. She had just one thing to say, “You and Mina, huh? Not gonna lie, it was a bit of a surprise. Not a bad one though!” she let out a tense airy laugh and sighed with a smile. “Take care of her. She needs more care than she lets on.” She finally let the sand through her clutched fingers and added softly, “Like you.”

 

“I know,” Momo looked to her with a matching gentle smile. Mina was like a princess and she her pauper. This morning at breakfast Momo had noticed if she hadn’t already beforehand. _“Wow, look! They have trays of out sand out for display!”_ she had marveled on their way to the breakfast buffet, running her hand through be pure white sand before Mina ran over to stop her and explain that it was actually a decadent ash tray. If that wasn’t enough, there was Mina holding her chest to cover herself as she leaned in to eat American chowder while Momo spilled banana milk on her white T-shirt. So elegant people did that to cover potential spills as well, not just to look snobbish, Momo realized years too late.

 

Everything about Mina reeked of refinery and Momo was intimated beyond belief. No wonder she had turned down her sudden offer to go to her house. It was probably not worth showing off anyways. Neither was her family compared to Mina’s picture perfect one. Momo had nothing to say to her that morning, and Mina too was a quiet person to begin with. They had eaten mostly in silence, gotten ready to head out in silence, until…

 

 _“Ah, Momoring,”_ Mina had called her out of the blue. Momo turned in pleaant surprise, never having been called that by Mina before. She took one look and realized what she needed. Her sandal strap was loose but her hands were full. Momo came over with a small laugh, holding Mina’s foot up to fix her problem for her.

 

 _“You’re such a spoiled kid, you know?_ ” It wasn’t a slight. She adored her. Loved her more than she knew how to say or display. And that’s where she had gone wrong before, she realized. She had had this warm admiration for Tzuyu as Jeongyeon had had for her. But it wasn’t this. It wasn’t this overwhelming desire to shower affection upon without actually being able to attain it.    

 

This sentiment was one that Chaeyoung was starting to understand as well. “You and Momo,” she began as she found yet another random object to play with. She was loitering around now, truth be told, looking for anything to do to stay in the room as Mina got ready to talk to her. What would she say now? She couldn’t say she was happy for them. It wouldn’t be honest. So she said just that. “I want to say that I’m happy for you. But I guess I’m too immature to, still.”’ Too possessive. Too in love.” But I…I do like it when you’re happy. And I honestly hope she can be what you need. Cause I know, I know now that you don’t just need another person who can take care of you.” Honest words were the toughest, and so was Chaeyoung.

 

“Thank you, Chaeyoung-ah. Really,” were Mina’s kind words. She put down her sunscreen to take a step closer to Chayeoung, taking in how much she had grown in this short time. It seemed like she had aged and grew along with her hair. And she knew Mina so well, even better than before. It was true. Mina had spent so long looking for a protector, a shield only to find herself attracted to someone needing more looking after than herself. So what was it exactly that she needed or wanted? Maybe Chaeyoung knew better than she did.

 

Unable to look at her straight on any longer now that her thudding heart began craving anew, Chaeyoung took the sunscreen from Mina and turned away. “I think I understand now,” she mumbled at first. She cleared her throat and continued firmer. “There’s someone who loves me so much. She’s my biggest fan, and she makes me so happy I thought maybe, just maybe… But I can’t, I just can’t love her. And I don’t know why.” She looked back at Mina and they both had there answer then.

 

They were both still in love. Still in love with someone else that no one could replace. At least not yet.

 

Mina had felt it hit her hard. Her efforts to swerve to another lane had been in vain. She who so loved Momo, she had spent the night holding her, listening to her breathe, could only reject her. She couldn’t go with her back to Japan. Her heart wasn’t there. It just wasn’t. She loved Momo. She loved her, but just not enough.

 

Chaeyoung was so wise. So beyond her age she could say things without even saying them. She wasn’t a protective older woman; she wasn’t even a true adult yet by Mina’s standards. She was so much better though. She knew herself. She knew Mina even better. Mina recalled it now, all the times Chaeyoung would welcome her to work as they met each other with smiles as if welcoming each other home. All the times she would stop from afar, watching Mina walk towards the station and snap a picture on her film camera or jot down a quick sketch. Not only for her own artistic purposes, rather for Mina’s enjoyment. Perhaps Mina should love Mina best, and Chaeyoung was here to remind her. To love a Mina who loved herself above all.

 

And love was oh so silly, making Mina’s heart sputter now of all times. In front of Chaeyoung who she had recently rejected out of all people. It was just one stray beat at first, growing and growing into two then three, then more than Mina could count. And she hated it. Fearing what she couldn’t understand. Infatuation was easy to write off. Love for love’s sake was easy to script. But _this. This,_ she didn’t have the words for. She suddenly wanted to cuss, to scream in frustration and confusion. Maybe Jeongyeon and Nayeon could give her a lesson or two about timing and friendship riding on more.

 

But enough of all of them and their endless spiraling and sudden realizations, it was Dahyun and Tzuyu’s day after all. “Why are you still here?” Tzuyu came to snatch her away, hugging her tight. “You still owe me by birthday kiss!” she demanded attention. It was unclear who blushed harder or looked away faster, Chaeyoung or Mina.

 

***

 

“Momoring!” the voice demanding utmost attention called out for her sister.

 

Momo turned to it blushing only to be confused to see her sister instead of someone else. Someone else she’d much rather see and kiss right now. “Dahyun, you’re here too?!” her squeaky voice punctured Sana’s explanation of how she miraculously came to join the hangout. She snatched Dahyun before Sana could protest. She rubbed her cheek again her, like she was her doll to cuddle with. Jeongyeon and Sana were both long forgotten, left to their own devices. And by that we mean awkward greetings between a sister’s ex and a younger sister, between _an ‘oh, you had a quick some relationship with my current girl’_ and a _‘so you FINALLY got together with the girl I almost screw- I mean, had too much fun with but didn’t?’_  

 

“Momo unnie,” Dahyun greeted her timidly at first, recalling that their only in person meeting before this was when Momo had walked in on her and Sana mid- (Well, they had talked extensively via text before. Sana was a bit of a girlfriend showoff. Moreover, Sana was often forgetful and Momo was more often her sister’s keeper. Those are all stories for another time though, of course.)

 

Momo was quick to help her over her embarrassment, playing with her cheeks in both hands. If she wasn’t Sana’s girl, maybe she would have made off with her. She was so unlike Mina in all her nervous stiffness. Dahyun was one who danced away all the awkwardness, literally. Starting random conversation and making her way through a crowd with ease. She was fun, bouncy, and squishy. She was Sana’s but that didn’t mean Momo couldn’t tease her a bit. “Dahyun’s mine!“ she declared, suddenly lifting her up in her mighty arms.  

 

“No, she’s mine!” Sana fought back, squishing the other side of Dahyun’s face. Stuck in the middle, Dahyun acted pestered, frowning this way and that. Even Jeongyeon could see through her act. It was like when her two older sisters would try to make her comfortable by sandwiching her with skinship. She laughed, suddenly feeling out of place in this poly mess until a hand reached out for hers.

 

Like a married couple who would fight at one end of the bed and make up by making out at the other, Nayeon came to make up with her. Not with apologies, but other words. “So we can either go to the abandoned train tracks that they grew flowers by and have an expensive bulgogi meal there at the place where Running Man ate with the girl group I like best, or we can stay here and get snacks from the convenient store and play by the shore first,” she said, really asking Jeongyeon for her opinion. The final decision, actually.

 

“Hmm, we’re all here. Might as well stay for the time being.”

 

Nayeon’s marveling eyes looked at her like she was the only tracks she’d need. Like going anywhere with Jeongyeon would be going on the right tracks and smiled. “Okay, so you’re paying for the beer right?” she punched her shoulder, then hugged her swiftly to make up for it.

 

So there they all played, soaking in the sun then the moon. Drinks were passed as one after another they were dunked in the water. Even Mina and Tzuyu who stayed on the shores in the day time were eventually dragged in come round two of beach fun at night. Dahyun DJ-ed with her lively playlist as Chaeyoung and Jihyo took pictures of them all. Some swam; some set off fireworks, and out of nowhere, a cake was brought out. They came together and sang and laughed. Tzuyu and Dahyun’s only birthday wish was to be happy. And happy they were in the arms of those they loved. Happy, carefree, and dancing the night away.

 

But there was more to come.

 

 

 

* * *

 

**_Lmk what you think! I'll edit later~_ **

_Spoilers:_

“I can’t read your mind, Mina. I’m not Jeongyeon or Chaeyoung.”

Ah, so that was what she really wanted all along. The luxury of familiarity, the comfort of not having to say a thing and be understood.

“You’re still thinking about it. You’re still afraid, aren’t you?”

She nodded, inhaling her familiar scent.

“I got you, you know. I’ll be here to hold you...until I’m not.”

 

 ** _Stories to be updated next (very soon! ^^):_** _[ **Love and Magic (and All Things Momo)**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271852?view_full_work=true)_ and  ** _[Twice Fluff Shots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914279?view_full_work=true) (2na shot)_**. Spoilers include Sana stirring up some questions and a bit of trouble for Momo, NaMo time, and some 2na moments that stay the same even as they grow up together.


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